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STUDIES IN LITERATURE 



FREDERIC MISTRAL 

POET AND LEADER LN PROVENCE 



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FRfiD^RIC MISTRAL 



FREDERIC MISTRAL 



POET AND LEADER IN PROVENCE 



BY 



CHARLES ALFRED DOWNER 

ASSISTANT PROFESSOR IN THE FRENCH LANGUAGE AND 

LITERATURE IN THE COLLEGE OF THE 

CITY OF NEW YORK 




THE COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY PRESS 

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY, Agents 

66 Fifth Avenue 

1901 



All rights reserved 






THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

MAY 31 1901 

Copyright entry 
CLASS <L>XX& N». 

/C$90 

COPY B. 



Copyright, 1901, 
By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. 



J. S. Cuehing & Co. — Berwick & Smith 
Norwood Mass. U.S.A. 



PREFACE 

This study of the poetry and life-work of 
the leader of the modern Provengal renaissance 
was submitted in partial fulfilment of the re- 
quirements for the degree of Doctor of Philoso- 
phy at Columbia University. My interest in 
Mistral was first awakened by an article from 
the pen of the great Romance philologist, Gas- 
ton Paris, which appeared in the Revue de Paris 
in October, 1894. The idea of writing the 
book came to me during a visit to Provence in 
1897. Two years later I visited the south of 
France again, and had the pleasure of seeing 
Mistral in his own home. It is my pleasant 
duty to express here once again my gratitude 
for his kindly hospitality and for his sugges- 
tions in regard to works upon the history of 
the Felibrige. Not often does he who studies 
the works of a poet in a foreign tongue enjoy 
as I did the privilege of hearing the verse from 

the poet's own lips. It was an hour not to be 

v 



vi PREEACE 

forgotten, and the beauty of the language has 
been for me since then as real as that of music 
finely rendered, and the force of the poet's per- 
sonality was impressed upon me as it scarcely 
could have been even from a most sympathetic 
and searching perusal of his works. His great 
influence in southern France and his great per- 
sonal popularity are not difficult to understand 
when one has seen the man. 

As the striking fact in the works of this 
Frenchman is that they are not written in 
French, but in Provengal, a considerable por- 
tion of the present essay is devoted to the 
language itself. But it did not appear fitting 
that too much space should be devoted to the 
purely linguistic side of the subject. There is 
a field here for a great deal of special study, 
and the results of such investigations will be 
embodied in special works by those who make 
philological studies their special province. In 
the first division of the present work, however, 
along with the life of the poet and the history 
of the Felibrige, a description of the language 
is given, which is an account at least of its 
distinctive features. A short chapter will be 
found devoted to the subject of the versifica- 



PREFACE vii 

tion of the poets who write in the new speech. 
This subject is not treated in Koschwitz's ad- 
mirable grammar of the language. 

The second division is devoted to the poems. 
The epics of Mistral, if we may venture to use 
the term, are, with the exception of Lamartine's 
Jocelyn, the most remarkable long narrative 
poems that have been produced in France in 
modern times. At least one of them would 
appear to be a work of the highest rank and 
destined to live. Among the short poems that 
constitute the volume called Lis Isclo cT Or are 
a number of masterpieces. 

This book aims to present all the essential 
facts in the history of this astonishing revival 
of a language, and to bring out the chief aspects 
of Mistral's life-work. In our conclusions we 
have not yielded to the temptation to prophesy. 
The conflicting tendencies of cosmopolitanism 
and nationalism abroad in the world to-day 
give rise to fascinating speculations as to the 
future. In the Felibrean movement we have 
a very interesting problem of this kind, and no 
one can terminate a study of the subject with- 
out asking himself the question, "What is going 
to come out of it all ? " No one can tell, and 



viii PREFACE 

so we have not ventured beyond the attempt to 
present the ease as it actually exists. 

Let me here also offer an expression of grati- 
tude to Professor Adolphe Cohn and to Pro- 
fessor Henry A. Todd of Columbia University 
for their advice and guidance during the past 
six years. Their kindness and the inspiration 
of their example must be reckoned among those 
things that cannot be repaid. 

New York, March, 1901. 



CONTENTS 



PAET FIEST 
The Revival of the Provencal Language 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Introduction. Life of Mistral 3 

II. The Felibrige 24 

III. The Modern Provencal, or, more accurately, 

The Language of the Felibres ... 43 

IV. The Versification of the Felibres ... 75 
V. Mistral's Dictionary of the Provencal Lan- 
guage. (Lou Tresor ddu Felibrige) . . 92 

PART SECOND 
The Poetical Works of Mistral 

I. The Four Longer Poems . • • .99 

1. Mireio 99 

2. Calendau 127 

3. Nerto 151 

4. Lou Pouemo ddu Rose . . . . 159 

II. LisIsclod'Or 181 

III. The Tragedy, La Reino Jano .... 212 

ix 



CONTENTS 



PAET THIRD 

PAGE 

Conclusions 237 



Appendix. Translation of the Psalm of Penitence 253 

Bibliography 259 

Index . 265 



PART FIRST 

THE REVIVAL OF THE PROVENgAL 
LANGUAGE 



FREDERIC MISTRAL 

CHAPTER I 

INTRODUCTION 

The present century has witnessed a remark- 
able literary phenomenon in the south of France, 
a remarkable rebirth of local patriotism. A 
language has been born again, so to speak, 
and once more, after a sleep of many hundred 
years, the sunny land that was the cradle of 
modern literature, offers us a new efflorescence 
of poetry, embodied in the musical tongue that 
never has ceased to be spoken on the soil where 
the Troubadours sang of love. Those who 
began this movement knew not whither they 
were tending. From small beginnings, out of 
a kindly desire to give the humbler folk a 
simple, homely literature in the language of 
their firesides, there grew a higher ambition. 
The Provengal language put forth claims to 
exist coequally with the French tongue on 

3 



4 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

French soil. Memories of the former glories 
of the southern regions of France began to 
stir within the hearts of the modern poets and 
leaders. They began to chafe under the strong 
political and intellectual centralization that pre- 
vails in France, and to seek to bring about a 
change. The movement has passed through 
numerous phases, has been frequently misin- 
terpreted and misunderstood, and may now, 
after it has attained to tangible results, be 
defined as an aim, on the part of its leaders, 
to make the south intellectually independent 
of Paris. It is an attempt to restore among 
the people of the Rhone region a love of their 
ancient customs, language, and traditions, an 
effort to raise a sort of dam against the flood 
of modern tendencies that threaten to over- 
whelm local life. These men seek to avoid 
that dead level of uniformity to which the 
national life of France appears to them in 
danger of sinking. In the earlier days, the 
leaders of this movement were often accused 
at Paris of a spirit of political separatism; 
they were actually mistrusted as secessionists, 
and certain it is that among them have been 
several champions of the idea of decentraliza- 



INTRODUCTION 6 

tion. To-day there are found in their ranks a 
few who advocate the federal idea in the politi- 
cal organization of France. However, there 
seems never to have been a time when the 
movement promised seriously to bring about 
practical political changes; and whatever po- 
litical significance it may have to-day goes no 
farther than what may be contained in germ in 
the effort at an intense local life. 

The land of the Troubadours is now the land 
of the Felibres ; these modern singers do not 
forget, nor will they allow the people of the 
south to forget, that the union of France with 
Provence was that of an equal with an equal, 
not of a principal with a subordinate. Patriots 
they are, however, ardent lovers of France, and 
proofs of their strong affection for their coun- 
try are not wanting. To-day, amid all their 
activity and demonstrations in behalf of what 
they often call " la petite patrie" no enemies or 
doubters are found to question their loyalty to 
the greater fatherland. 

The movement began in the revival of the 
Provengal language, and was at first a very 
modest attempt to make it serve merely better 
purposes than it had done after the eclipse that 



6 fr£d£ric mistral 

followed the Albigensian war. For a long time 
the linguistic and literary aspect of all this 
activity was the only one that attracted any 
attention in the rest of France or in Provence 
itself. Not that the Provencal language had 
ever quite died out even as a written language. 
Since the days of the Troubadours there had 
been a continuous succession of writers in the 
various dialects of southern France, but very 
few of them were men of power and talent. 
Among the immediate predecessors of the Feli- 
bres must be mentioned Saboly, whose Noels, or 
Christmas songs* are to-day known all over the 
region, and Jasmin, who, however, wrote in a 
different dialect. Jasmin's fame extended far 
beyond the limited audience for which he wrote ; 
his work came to the attention of the cultured 
through the enthusiastic praise of Sainte-Beuve, 
and he is to-day very widely known. The Eng- 
lish-speaking world became acquainted with 
him chiefly through the translations of Long- 
fellow. Jasmin, however, looked upon himself 
as the last of a line, and when, in his later 
years, he heard of the growing fame of the new 
poets of the Rhone country, it is said he looked 
upon them with disfavor, if not jealousy. 



INTRODUCTION 7 

Strange to say, he was, in the early days, un- 
known to those whose works, like his, have now 
attained well-nigh world-wide celebrity. 

The man who must justly be looked upon as 
the father of the present movement was Joseph 
Roumanille. He was born in 1818, in the little 
town of Saint-Remy, a quaint old place, proud 
of some remarkable Roman remains, situated 
to the south of Avignon. Roumanille was far 
from foreseeing the consequences of the im- 
pulse he had given in arousing interest in the 
old dialect, and, until he beheld the astonishing 
successes of Mistral, strongly disapproved the 
ambitions of a number of his fellow-poets to 
seek an audience for their productions outside 
of the immediate region. He had no more ambi- 
tious aim than to raise the patois of Saint-Remy 
out of the veritable mire into which it had sunk ; 
it pained him to see that the speech of his fire- 
side was never used in writing except for trifles 
and obscenities. Of him is told the touching 
story that one day, while reciting in his home 
before a company of friends some poems in 
French that he had written, he observed tears 
in his mother's eyes. She could not understand 
the poetry his friends so much admired. Rou- 



8 fr£d£ric mistral 

manille, much moved, resolved to write no verses 
that his mother could not enjoy, and henceforth 
devoted himself ardently to the task of purify- 
ing and perfecting the dialect of Saint-Remy. 
It has been said, no less truthfully than poeti- 
cally, that from a mother's tear was born the 
new Provengal poetry, destined to so splendid 
a career. 

We of the English-speaking race are apt to 
wonder at this love of a local dialect. This 
vigorous attempt to create a first-rate literature, 
alongside and independent of the national litera- 
ture, seems strange or unnatural. We are accus- 
tomed to one language, spoken over immense 
areas, and we rejoice to see it grow and spread, 
more and more perfectly unified. With all 
their local color, in spite of their expression 
of provincial or colonial life, the writings of 
a Kipling are read and enjoyed wherever the 
English language has penetrated. In Italy we 
find patriots and writers working with utmost 
energy to bring into being a really national lan- 
guage. Nearly all the governments of Europe 
seek to impose the language of the capital upon 
the schools. Unification of language seems a 
most desirable thing, and, superficially consid- 



INTRODUCTION 9 

ered, the tendency would appear to be in that 
direction. But the truth is that there exists all 
over Europe a war of tongues. The Welsh, 
the Basques, the Norwegians, the Bohemians, 
the Finns, the Hungarians, are of one mind 
with Daudet and Mistral, who both express the 
sentiment, " He who holds to his language, holds 
the key of his prison." 

So Roumanille loved and cherished the melo- 
dious speech of the Rhone valley. He hoped 
to see the langue d'oc saved from destruction, 
he strove against the invasion of the northern 
speech that threatened to overwhelm it. He 
wrote sweet verses and preached the gospel of 
the home-speech. One day he discovered a boy 
whom he calls " Tenfant sublime," and the pupil 
soon carried his dreams to a realization far 
beyond his fondest hopes. Not Roumanille, 
but Frederic Mistral has made the new Proven- 
gal literature what it is. In him were combined 
all the qualities, all the powers requisite for the 
task, and the task grew with time. It became 
more than a question of language. Mistral 
soon came to seek not only the creation of an 
independent literature, he aimed at nothing less 
than a complete revolution, or rather a com- 



io fr£d:&ric mistral 

plete rebirth, of the mental life of southern 
France. Provence was to save her individu- 
ality entire. Geographically at the central 
point of the lands inhabited by the so-called 
Latin races, she was to regain her ancient promi- 
nence, and cause the eyes of her sisters to turn 
her way once more with admiration and affec- 
tion. The patois of Saint- Remy has been 
developed and expanded into a beautiful lit- 
erary language. The inertia of the Provengals 
themselves has been overcome. There is un- 
doubtedly a new intellectual life in the Rhone 
valley, and the fame of the Felibres and their 
great work has gone abroad into distant 
lands. 

The purpose, then, of the present disserta- 
tion, will be to give an account of the language 
of the Felibres, and to examine critically the 
literary work of their acknowledged chief and 
guiding spirit, Frederic Mistral. 

The story of his life he himself has told most 
admirably in the preface to the first edition of 
Lis Isclo cT Or, published at Avignon in 1874. 
He was born in 1830, on the 8th day of Septem- 
ber, at Maillane. Maillane is a village, near 
Saint-Remy, situated in the centre of a broad 



INTRODUCTION 11 

plain that lies at the foot of the Alpilles, the 
westernmost rocky heights of the Alps. Here 
the poet is still living, and here he has passed 
his life almost uninterruptedly. His father's 
home was a little way out of the village, and 
the boy was brought up at the mas, 1 amid farm- 
hands and shepherds. His father had married 
a second time at the age of fifty-five, and our 
poet was the only child of this second mar- 
riage. 

The story of the first meeting of his parents 
is thus told by the poet : — 

"One year, on St. John's day, Maitre Fran^ 
gois Mistral was in the midst of his wheat, 
which a company of harvesters were reaping. 
A throng of young girls, gleaning, followed the 
reapers and raked up the ears that fell. Maitre 
Frangois (Meste Frances in Provengal), my 
father, noticed a beautiful girl that remained 
behind as if she were ashamed to glean like 
the others. He drew near and said to her : — 

" ' My child, whose daughter are you? What 
is your name ? ' 

1 The word mas, which is kin with the English manse and 
mansion, signifies the home in the country with numerous 
outbuildings grouped closely about it. 



12 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

" The young girl replied, ' I am the daughter 
of Etienne Poulinet, Maire of Maillane. My 
name is Delaide.' 

"'What! the daughter of the Maire of 
Maillane gleaning ! ' 

"'Maitre,' she replied, 'our family is large, 
six girls and two boys, and although our father 
is pretty well to do, as you know, when we ask 
him for money to dress with, he answers, " Girls, 
if you want finery, earn it ! " And that is why 
I came to glean.' 

"Six months after this meeting, which re- 
minds one of the ancient scene of Ruth and 
Boaz, Maitre Fran<jois asked Maitre Poulinet 
for the hand of Delaide, and I was born of 
that marriage." 

His father's lands were extensive, and a great 
number of men were required to work them. 
The poem, Mireio, is filled with pictures of the 
sort of life led in the country of Maillane. Of 
his father he says that he towered above them 
all, in stature, in wisdom, and in nobleness of 
bearing. He was a handsome old man, digni- 
fied in language, firm in command, kind to the 
poor about him, austere with himself alone. 
The same may be said of the poet to-day. He 



INTRODUCTION 13 

is a strikingly handsome man, vigorous and 
active, exceedingly gracious and simple in 
manner. His utter lack of affectation is the 
more remarkable, in view of the fact that he 
has been for years an object of adulation, and 
lives in constant and close contact with a popu- 
lation of peasants. 

His schooling began at the age of nine, but 
the boy played truant so frequently that he 
was sent to boarding-school in Avignon. Here 
he had a sad time of it, and seems especially to 
have felt the difference of language. Teachers 
and pupils alike made fun of his patois, for 
which he had a strong attachment, because of 
the charm of the songs his mother sung to 
him. Later he studied well, however, and 
became filled with a love of Virgil and Homer. 
In them he found pictures of life that recalled 
vividly the labors, the ways, and the ideas of 
the Maillanais. At this time, too, he attempted 
a translation, in Proven gal, of the first eclogue 
of Virgil, and confided his efforts to a school- 
mate, Anselme Mathieu, who became his life- 
long friend and one of the most active among 
the Felibres. 

It was at this school, in 1845, that he formed 



14 FREDERIC MISTRAL 

his friendship with Roumanille, who had come 
there as a teacher. It is not too much to say- 
that the revival of the Provengal language 
grew out of this meeting. Roumanille had 
already written his poems, Li Margarideto (The 
Daisies). "Scarcely had he shown me," says 
Mistral, "in their spring-time freshness, these 
lovely field-flowers, when a thrill ran through 
my being and I exclaimed, 'This is the dawn 
my soul awaited to awaken to the light ! ' 
Mistral had read some Provengal, but at that 
time the dialect was employed merely in deri- 
sion ; the writers used the speech itself as the 
chief comic element in their productions. The 
poems of Jasmin were as yet unknown to him. 
Roumanille was the first in the Rhone country 
to sing the poetry of the heart. Master and 
pupil became firm friends and worked together 
for years to raise the home -speech to the dignity 
of a literary language. 

At seventeen Mistral returned home, and 
began a poem in four cantos, that he has never 
published ; though portions of it are among the 
poems of Lis Isclo d'Or and in the notes of 
Mireio. This poem is called Li Meissoun (Har- 
vest). His family, seeing his intellectual supe- 



INTRODUCTION 15 

riority, sent him to Aix to study law. Here 
he again met Mathieu, and they made up for 
the aridity of the Civil Code by devoting 
themselves to poetry in Provengal. 

In 1851 the young man returned to the mas, 
a lieencie en droit, and his father said to him : 
" Now, my dear son, I have done my duty ; you 
know more than ever I learned. Choose your 
career; I leave you free." And the poet tells 
us he threw his lawyer's gown to the winds and 
gave himself up to the contemplation of what he 
so loved, — the splendor of his native Provence. 

Through Roumanille he came to know 
Aubanel, Croustillat, and others. They met 
at Avignon, full of youthful enthusiasm, and 
during this period Mistral, encouraged by his 
friends, worked upon his greatest poem, Mireio. 
In 1854, on the 21st of May, the Felibrige was 
founded by the seven poets, — Joseph Rouma- 
nille, Paul Giera, Theodore Aubanel, Eugene 
Garcin, Anselme Mathieu, Frederic Mistral, 
Alphonse Tavan. In 1868, Garcin published 
a violent attack upon the Felibres, accusing 
them, in the strongest language, of seeking to 
bring about a political separation of southern 
France from the rest of the country. This 



16 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

apostasy was a cause of great grief to the 
others, and Garcin's name was stricken from 
the official list of the founders of the Felibrige, 
and replaced by that of Jean Brunet. Mistral, 
in the sixth canto of Mireio, addresses in elo- 
quent verse his comrades in the Provencal 
Pleiade, and there we still find the name of 
Garcin. 

Tii' nfin, de quau un vent de flamo 
Ventoulo, emporto e fouito Tamo 
Garcin, o fieu ardent ddu manescau d' Alen ! 

(And finally, thou whose soul is stirred and swept and 
whipped by a wind of flame, Garcin, ardent son of the 
smith of Alleins.) 

This attack upon the Felibrige was the first 
of the kind ever made. Many years later, Gar- 
cin became reconciled to his former friends and 
in 1897 he was vice-president of the Felibrige 
de Paris. 

The number seven and the task undertaken 
by these poets and literary reformers remind us 
instantly of the Pleiade, whose work in the 
sixteenth century in attempting to perfect the 
French language was of a very similar char- 
acter. It is certain, however, that the seven 



INTRODUCTION 17 

poets who inaugurated their work at the Cha- 
teau of Font-Segugne, had no thought of imi- 
tating the Pleiade either in the choice of the 
number seven or in the reformation they were 
about to undertake. 

They began their propaganda by founding an 
annual publication called the Armaria Prouven- 
gau, which has appeared regularly since 1855, and 
many of their writings were first printed in 
this official magazine. Of the seven, Aubanel 
alone besides Mistral has attained celebrity as 
a poet, and these two with Roumanille have 
been usually associated in the minds of all 
who have followed the movement with inter- 
est as its three leaders. 

Mistral completed Mireio in 1859. The poem 
was presented by Adolphe Dumas and Jean 
Reboul to Lamartine, who devoted to it one 
of the " Entretiens " of his Cours familier de 
Utterature. This article of Lamartine, and his 
personal efforts on behalf of Mistral, contrib- 
uted greatly to the success of the poem. Lam- 
artine wrote among other things : " A great 
epic poet is born ! A true Homeric poet in 
our own time ; a poet, born like the men of 
Deucalion, from a stone on the Crau, a primi- 



is fr£d£ric mistral 

tive poet in our decadent age ; a Greek poet at 
Avignon ; a poet who has created a language 
out of a dialect, as Petrarch created Italian ; 
one who, out of a vulgar patois, has made a 
language full of imagery and harmony delight- 
ing the imagination and the ear. . . . We 
might say that, during the night, an island 
of the Archipelago, a floating Delos, has 
parted from its group of Greek or Ionian 
islands and come silently to join the mainland 
of sweet-scented Provence, bringing along one 
of the divine singers of the family of the Mele- 
sigenes." 

Mistral went to Paris, where for a time he was 
the lion of the literary world. The French 
Academy crowned his poem, and Gounod com- 
posed the opera Mireille, which was performed 
for the first time in 1864, in Paris. 

The poet did not remain long in the capital. 
He doubtless realized that he was not destined 
to join the galaxy of Parisian writers, and it is 
certain that if he had remained there his life 
and his influence would have been utterly dif- 
ferent. He returned home and immediately 
set to work upon a second epic ; in another 
seven years he completed Calendau, published 



INTRODUCTION 19 

in Avignon in 1866. The success of this poem 
was decidedly less than that of Mireio. 

During these years he published many of the 
shorter poems that appeared in one volume in 
1875, under the title of Lis Isclo $ Or (The 
Golden Islands). Meanwhile the idea of the 
Felibrige made great progress. The language 
of the Felibres had now a fixed orthography 
and definite grammatical form. The appear- 
ance of a master-work had given a wonderful 
impulse. The exuberance of the southern tem- 
perament responded quickly to the call for a 
manifestation of patriotic enthusiasm. The 
Catalan poets joined their brothers beyond the 
Pyrenees. The Floral games were founded. 
The Felibrige passed westward beyond the 
Rhone and found adherents in all south France. 
The centenary of Petrarch celebrated at Avi- 
gnon in 1874 tended to emphasize the impor- 
tance and the glory of the new literature. 

The definite organization of the Felibrige into 
a great society with its hierarchy of officers took 
place in 1876, with Mistral as Capoulie (Chief 
or President). In this same year also the poet 
married Mdlle. Marie Riviere of Dijon, and this 
lady, who was named first Queen of the Felibrige 



20 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

by Albert de Quintana of Catalonia, the poet- 
laureate of the year 1878 at the great Floral 
Games held in Montpellier, has become at heart 
and in speech a Provengale. 

A third poem, Nerto, appeared in 1884, and 
showed the poet in a new light ; his admirers 
now compared him to Ariosto. This same year 
he made a second journey to Paris, and was 
again the lion of the hour. The SocietS de la 
Gig ale, which had been founded in 1876, as a 
Paris branch of the Felibrige, and which later 
became the Societe des Felibres de Paris, organ- 
ized banquets and festivities in his honor, and 
celebrated the Floral Games at Sceaux to com- 
memorate the four hundredth anniversary of the 
day when Provence became united, of her own 
free-will, with France. Mistral was received 
with distinction by President Grevy and by 
the Count of Paris, and his numerous Parisian 
friends vied in bidding him welcome to the capi- 
tal. His new poem was crowned by the French 
Academy, receiving the Prix Vitet, the presen- 
tation address being delivered by Legouve. 
Four years later, Lou Tresor d6u Felibrige, a 
great dictionary of all the dialects of the langue 
d'oc, was completed, and in 1890 appeared his 



INTRODUCTION 21 

only dramatic work, La Reino Jano (Queen 
Joanna). In 1897 he produced his last long 
poem, epic in form, Lou Pouemo d6u Rose (the 
Poem of the Rhone). At present he is engaged 
upon his Memoirs. 

Aside from his rare journeys to Paris, a visit 
to Switzerland, and another to Italy, Mistral has 
rarely gone beyond the borders of his beloved 
region. He is still living quietly in the little 
village of Maillaiie, in a simple but beautiful 
home, surrounded with works of art inspired 
by the Felibrean movement. He has survived 
many of his distinguished friends. Rouma- 
nille, Mathieu, Aubanel, Daudet, and Paul 
Arene have all passed away ; a new genera- 
tion is about him. But his activity knows no 
rest. The Felibrean festivities continue, the 
numerous publications in the Prove^al tongue 
still have in him a constant contributor. In 
1899 the Museon Arlaten (the Museum of 
Aries) was inaugurated, and is another proof 
of the constant energy and enthusiasm of the 
poet. He is to-day the greatest man in the 
south of France, universally beloved and re- 
vered. 

His life after all has been less a literary life 



22 fr£d£ric mistral 

than one of direct and unceasing personal 
action upon the population about him. The 
resurrection of the language, the publication 
of poems, magazines, and newspapers, are only- 
part of a programme tending to raise the people 
of the south to a conception of their individu- 
ality as a race. He has striven untiringly to 
communicate to them his own glowing enthusi- 
asm for the past glories of Provence, to fire 
them with his dream of a great rebirth of the 
Latin races, to lay the foundation of a great 
ideal Latin union. Wonderful is his optimism. 
Some of the Felibres about him are somewhat 
discouraged, many of them have never set their 
aspirations as high as he has done, and some 
look upon his dreams as Utopian. Whatever 
be the future of the movement he has founded, 
Mistral's life in its simple oneness, and in its 
astonishing success, is indeed most remarkable. 
Provence, the land that first gave the world a 
literature after the decay of the classic tongues, 
has awakened again under his magic touch to 
an active mental life. A second literature is 
in active being on the soil of France, a second 
literary language is there a reality. Whether 
permanent or evanescent, this glorification of 



INTRODUCTION 23 

poetry, this ardent love of the beautiful and 
the ideal, is a noble and inspiring spectacle 
amid the turmoil and strife of this age of mate- 
rial progress. 



CHAPTER II 

THE FELIBRIGE 

The history of the Felibrige, from its begin- 
ning, in 1854, down to the year 1896, has been 
admirably written by G. Jourdanne. 1 The 
work is quite exhaustive, containing, in addi- 
tion to the excellently written narrative, an 
engraving of the famous cup, portraits of all 
the most noted Felibres, a series of elaborately 
written notes that discuss or set forth many 
questions relating to the general theme, a very 
large bibliography of the subject, comprising 
long lists of works that have been written in 
the dialect or that have appeared in France and 
in other countries concerning the Felibres, a 
copy of the constitution of the society and 
of various statutes relating to it. It not only 

1 Histoire du Felibrige, par G. Jourdanne, Librairie Bou- 
manille, Avignoriy 1897. 

24 



THE FELIBRIGE 25 

contains all the material that is necessary for 
the study of the Felibrige, but it is worthy of 
the highest praise for the spirit in which it is 
written. It is an honest attempt to explain 
the Felibrige, and to present fairly and fully all 
the problems that so remarkable a movement has 
created. A perusal of the book makes it evi- 
dent that the author believes in future political 
consequences, and while well aware that it is 
unsafe to prophesy, he has a chapter on the 
future of the movement. 

His history endeavors to show that the Feli- 
brean renaissance was not a spontaneous spring- 
ing into existence. On the purely literary side, 
however, it certainly bears the character of a 
creation; as writers, the Provengal poets may 
scarcely be said to continue any preceding school 
or to be closely linked with any literary past. 
In its inception it was a mere attempt to write 
pleasing, popular verse of a better kind in the 
dialect of the fireside. But the movement 
developed rapidly into the ambition to endow 
the whole region with a real literature, to 
awaken a consciousness of race in the men of 
the south; these aims have been realized, and a 
change has come over the life of Provence and 



26 FREDERIC MISTRAL 

the land of the langue d'oc in general. The 
author believes and adduces evidences to show 
that all this could not have come about had the 
seed not fallen upon a soil that was ready. 

The Felibrige dates from the year 1854, but 
the idea that lies at the bottom of it must be 
traced back to the determination of Roumanille 
to write in Provengal rather than in French. 
He produced his Margarideto in 1847 and the 
Sounjarello in 1851. In collaboration with 
Mistral and Anselme Mathieu, he edited a col- 
lection of poems by living writers under the 
title Li Prouvengalo. During these years, too, 
there were meetings of Provengal writers for 
the purpose of discussing questions of grammar 
and spelling. These meetings, including even 
the historic one of May 21, 1854, were, how- 
ever, really little more than friendly, social 
gatherings, where a number of enthusiastic 
friends sang songs and made merry. They had 
none of the solemnity of a conclave, or the 
dignity of literary assemblies. There was no 
formal organization. Those writers who were 
zealously interested in the rehabilitation of the 
Provengal speech and connected themselves 
with Mistral and his friends were the Feli- 



THE F&LIBRIGE 27 

bres. Not until 1876 was there a Felibrige 
with a formal constitution and an elaborate 
organization. 

The word Felibre was furnished by Mistral, 
who had come upon it in an old hymn wherein 
occurs the expression that the Virgin met Jesus 
in the temple among "the seven Felibres of 
the law." The origin and etymology of this 
word have given rise to various explanations. 
The Greek philabros, lover of the beautiful; 
philebraios, lover of Hebrew, hence, among the 
Jews, teacher; felibris, nursling, according to 
Ducange; the Irish filea, bard, and ber, chief, 
have been proposed. Jeanroy (in Romania, 
XIII, p. 463) offers the etymology : Spanish 
feligres, filii Ecelesice, sons of the church, parish- 
ioners. None of these is certain. 

Seven poets were present at this first meet- 
ing, and as the day happened to be that of St. 
Estelle, the emblem of a seven-pointed star 
was adopted. Very fond of the number seven 
are these Felibres; they tell you of the seven 
chief churches of Avignon, its seven gates, 
seven colleges, seven hospitals, seven popes 
who were there seventy years; the word Feli- 
bre has seven letters, so has Mistral's name, 



28 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

and he spent seven years in writing each of 
his epics. 

The task that lay before these poets was 
twofold : they had not only to prune and 
purify their dialect and produce verses, they 
had also to find readers, to create a public, to 
begin a propaganda. The first means adopted 
was the publication of the Armaria prouvengau, 
already referred to. In 1855, five hundred 
copies were issued, in 1894, twelve thousand. 
For four years this magazine was destined for 
Provence alone ; in 1860, after the appearance 
of Mireio, it was addressed to all the dwell- 
ers in southern France. The great success of 
Mireio began a new period in the history of the 
Felibrige. Mistral himself and the poets about 
him now took an entirely new view of their 
mission. The uplifting of the people, the crea- 
tion of a literature that should be admired 
abroad as well as at home, the complete ex- 
pression of the life of Provence, in all its 
aspects, past and present, escape from the im- 
placable centralization that tends to destroy 
all initiative and originality — such were the 
higher aims toward which they now bent their 
efforts. The attention of Paris was turned in 



THE F^LIBRIGE 29 

their direction. Jasmin had already shown the 
Parisians that real poetry of a high order could 
be written in a patois. Lamartine and Ville- 
main welcomed the new literature most cor- 
dially, and the latter declared that " France is 
rich enough to have two literatures." 

But the student of this history must not lose 
sight of the fact that the Provengal poets are 
not first of all litterateurs ; they are not men 
devoting themselves to literature for a liveli- 
hood, or even primarily for fame. They are 
patriots before they are poets. The choice of 
subjects and the intense love of their native 
land that breathes through all their writings, 
are ample proof of this. They meet to sing 
songs and to speak ; it is always of Provence 
that they sing and speak. Almost all of them 
are men who ply some trade, hardly one lives 
by his pen alone. This fact gives a very spe- 
cial character to their whole production. The 
Felibrean movement is more than an astonish- 
ing literary phenomenon. 

The idea from this time on acquired more 
and more adherents. Scores of writers ap- 
peared, and volumes whose titles filled many 
pages swelled the output of Provengal verse. 



30 fk£d£ric mistral 

These new aims were due to the success of 
Mireio ; but it must not be forgotten that Mis- 
tral himself, in that poem and in the shorter 
poems of the same period, gave distinct expres- 
sion to the new order of ideas, so that we are 
constantly led back to him, in all our study of 
the matter, as the creator, the continuer, and 
the ever present inspirer of the Felibrige. 
Whatever it is, it is through him primarily. 
Roumanille must be classed as one of those 
precursors who are unconscious of what they 
do. To him the Felibres owe two things: 
first of all, the idea of writing in the dialect 
works of literary merit ; and, secondly, the dis- 
covery of Frederic Mistral. 

Among these new ideas, one that dominates 
henceforth in the story of the Felibrige, is the 
idea of race. Mistral is well aware that there 
is no Latin race, in the sense of blood relation- 
ship, of physical descent ; he knows that the 
so-called Latin race has, for the base of its unity, 
a common history, a common tradition, a com- 
mon religion, a common language. 

But he believes that there is a race meri- 
dionale that has been developed into a kind 
of unity out of the various elements that com- 



THE FELIBRIGE 31 

pose it, through their being mingled together, 
and accumulating during many centuries com- 
mon memories, ideas, customs, and interests. 
So Mistral has devoted himself to promoting 
knowledge of its history, traditions, language, 
and religion. As the Felibrige grew, and as 
Mistral felt his power as a poet grow, he 
sought a larger public ; he turned naturally 
to the peoples most closely related to his own, 
and Italy and Spain were embraced in his sym- 
pathies. The Felibrige spread beyond the limits 
of France first into Spain. Victor Balaguer, ex- 
iled from his native country, was received with 
open arms by the Provencals. William Bona- 
parte-Wyse, an Irishman and a grand-nephew 
of the first Napoleon, while on a journey 
through Provence, had become converted to 
the Felibrean doctrines, and became an active 
spirit among these poets and orators. He 
organized a festival in honor of Balaguer, and 
when, later, the Catalan poet was permitted 
to return home, the Catalans sent the famous 
cup to their friends in Provence. For the 
Felibres this cup is an emblem of the idea of 
a Latin federation, and as it passes from hand 
to hand and from lip to lip at the Felibrean 



32 FRfeDlSRIC MISTRAL 

banquets, the scene is not unlike that wherein 
the Holy Graal passes about among the Knights 
of the Round Table. 1 

Celebrations of this kind have become a 
regular institution in southern France. Since 
the day in 1862 when the town of Apt received 
the Felibres officially, organizing Floral Games, 
in which prizes were offered for the best poems 
in Provencal, the people have become accus- 
tomed to the sight of these triumphal entries of 
the poets into their cities. Reports of these 
brilliant festivities have gone abroad into all 
lands. If the love of noise and show that char- 
acterizes the southern temperament has caused 
these reunions to be somewhat unfavorably 
criticised as theatrical, on the other hand the 
enthusiasm has been genuine, and the results 

1 The stem of the cup has the form of a palm tree, under 
which two female figures, representing Catalonia and Pro- 
vence, stand in a graceful embrace. Below the figures are 
engraved the two following inscriptions : — 

Morta la diuhen qu'es, Ah ! se me sabien entendre ! 
Mes jo la crech viva. Ah ! se me voulien segui ! 

(V. Balaguer.) (F. Mistral.) 

(They say she is dead, (Ah, if they could understand 
but I believe she me ! Ah, if they would follow 

lives.) me !) 



THE FfiLIBRIGE 33 

real and lasting. The Felibrees, so they are 
called, have not all taken place in France. In 
1868, Mistral, Roumieux, Bonaparte-Wyse, and 
Paul Meyer went to Barcelona, where they 
were received with great pomp and ceremony. 
Men eminent in literary and philological circles 
in Paris have often accepted invitations to these 
festivities. In 1876, a Felibrean club, "La 
Cigale," was founded in the capital ; its first 
president was Henri de Bornier, author of La 
Fille de Roland. Professors and students of 
literature and philology in France and in other 
countries began to interest themselves in the 
Felibres, and the Felibrige to-day counts among 
its members men of science as well as men of 
letters. 

In 1874 one of the most remarkable of 
the celebrations, due to the initiative of M. 
de Berluc-Perussis, was held at Vaucluse to 
celebrate the fifth centenary of the death of 
Petrarch. At this Felibree the Italians first 
became affiliated to the idea., and the Italian 
ambassador, Nigra, the president of the Accade- 
mia della Crusca, Signor Conti, and Professor 
Minich, from the University of Padua, were the 
delegates. The Institute of France was repre- 



34 FREDERIC MISTRAL 

sented for the first time. This celebration was 
highly important and significant, and the scenes 
of Petrarch's inspirations and the memories of 
the founder of the Renaissance must have awak- 
ened responsive echoes in the hearts of the poets 
who aimed at a second rebirth of poetry and 
learning in the same region. 

The following year the Societe des langues 
romanes at Montpellier offered prizes for philo- 
logical as well as purely literary works, and for 
the first time other dialects than the Provencal 
proper were admitted in the competitions. The 
Languedocian, the Gascon, the Limousin, the 
Bearnais, and the Catalan dialects were thus 
included. The members of the jury were men 
of the greatest note, Gaston Paris, Michel Breal, 
Mila y Fontanals, being of their number. 

Finally, in 1876, on the 21st of May, the 
statutes of the Felibrige were adopted. From 
them we quote the following : — 

"The Felibrige is established to bring to- 
gether and encourage all those who, by their 
works, preserve the language of the land of oe, 
as well as the men of science and the artists 
who study and work in the interest of this 
country." 



THE F&LIBRIGE 36 

"Political and religious discussions are for- 
bidden in the Felibrean meetings." 

The organization is interesting. The Feli- 
bres are divided into Majoraux and Mainteneurs. 
The former are limited to fifty in number, and 
form the Consistory, which elects its own mem- 
bers; new members are received on the feast 
of St. Estelle. 

The Consistory is presided over by a Capou- 
lie, who wears as the emblem of his office a 
seven-pointed golden star, the other Majoraux, 
a golden grasshopper. 

The other Felibres are unlimited in number. 
Any seven Felibres dwelling in the same place 
may ask the Maintenance to form them into 
a school. The schools administer their own 
affairs. 

Every seven years the Floral Games are held, 
at which prizes are distributed; every year, on 
the feast of St. Estelle, a general meeting of 
the Felibrige takes place. Each Maintenance 
must meet once a year. 

At the Floral Games he who is crowned poet- 
laureate chooses the Queen, and she crowns 
him with a wreath of olive leaves. 

To-day there are three Maintenances within 



36 FREDERIC MISTRAL 

the limits of French soil, Provence, Languedoc, 
Aquitaine. 

Among other facts that should doubtless be 
reported here is, the list of Capoulies. They 
have been Mistral (1876-1888), Roumanille 
(1888-1891), and Felix Gras; the Queens have 
been Madame Mistral, Mile. Therese Rouma- 
nille, Mile. Marie Girard, and the Comtesse 
Marie-Therese de Chevigne, who is descended 
upon her mother's side from Laura de Sade, 
generally believed to be Petrarch's Laura. 

Since the organization went into effect the 
Felibrige has expanded in many ways, its influ- 
ence has continually grown, new questions have 
arisen. Among these last have been burning 
questions of religion and politics, for although 
discussions of them are banished from Felibrean 
meetings, opinions of the most various kind 
exist among the Felibres, have found expres- 
sion, and have well-nigh resulted in difficulties. 
Until 1876 these questions slept. Mistral is a 
Catholic, but has managed to hold more or less 
aloof from political matters. Aubanel was a 
zealous Catholic, and had the title by inheritance 
of Printer to his Holiness. Roumanille was a 
Catholic, and an ardent Royalist. When the 



THE FELIBRIGE 37 

Felibrige came to extend its limits over into 
Languedoc, the poet Auguste Foures and his 
fellows proclaimed a different doctrine, and 
called up memories of the past with a different 
view. They affirmed their adherence to the 
Renaissance meridionale, and claimed equal 
rights for the Languedocian dialect. They 
asserted, however, that the true tradition was 
republican, and protested vigorously against 
the clerical and monarchical parties, which, in 
their opinion, had always been for Languedoc a 
cause of disaster, servitude, and misery. The 
memory of the terrible crusade in the thirteenth 
century inspired fiery poems among them. 
Hatred of Simon de Montfort and of the in- 
vaders who followed him, free-thought, and 
federalism found vigorous expression in all 
their productions. In Provence, too, there have 
been opinions differing widely from those of 
the original founders, and the third Capoulie, 
Felix Gras, was a Protestant. Of him M. Jour- 
danne writes : — 

"Finally, in 1891, after the death of Rou- 
manille, the highest office in the Felibrige was 
taken by a man who could rally about him the 
two elements that we have seen manifested, 



38 FR&D&RIC MISTRAL 

sufficiently Republican to satisfy the most 
ardent in the extreme Left, sufficiently steady 
not to alarm the Royalists, a great enough poet 
to deserve without any dispute the first place in 
an assembly of poets." 

He, like Mistral, wrote epics in twelve cantos. 
His first work, Li CarbouniS, has on its title- 
page three remarkable lines : — 

" I love my village more than thy village, 
I love my Provence more than thy province, 
I love France more than all." 

Possibly no other three lines could express as 
well the whole spirit of the Felibrige. 

Our subject being Mistral and not Felix Gras, 
a passing mention must suffice. One of his 
remarkable works is called Toloza, and recounts 
the crusade of the Albigenses, and his novel, 
The Reds of the Midi, first published in New 
York in the English translation of Mrs. Thomas 
A. Janvier, is probably the most remarkable 
prose work that has been written in Provengal. 1 
Only the future can tell whether the Provengal 
will pass through a prose cycle after its poetic 
cycle, in the manner of all literatures. To 

1 In 1899, Felix Gras published a novel called The White 
Terror. His death occurred early in 1901. 



THE FELIBRIGE 39 

many serious thinkers the attempt to create 
a complete literature seems of very doubtful 
success. 

The problems, then, which confront the Feli- 
bres are numerous. Can they, with any assur- 
ance of permanence, maintain two literary 
languages in the same region? It is scarcely 
necessary to state, of course, that no one dreams 
of supplanting the French language anywhere 
on French soil. What attitude shall they 
assume toward the " patoisants," that is, those 
who insist on using the local dialect, and refuse 
to conform to the usage of the Felibres ? Is it 
not useless, after all, to hope for a more perfect 
unification of the dialects of the langue <Toe, 
and, if unification is the aim, does not logical rea- 
soning lead to the conclusion that the French 
language already exists, perfectly unified, and 
absolutely necessary? In the matter of poli- 
tics, the most serious questions may arise if the 
desires of some find more general favor. Shall 
the Felibres aim at local self-government, at a 
confederation something like that of the Swiss 
cantons ? Shall they advocate the idea of inde- 
pendent universities ? 

As a matter of fact, none of these problems 



40 fr£d£ric mistral 

are solved, and they will only be solved by the 
natural march of events. The attitude of the 
leaders toward all these differing views has be- 
come one of easy toleration. If the language of 
the Felibres tends already to dominate the other 
dialects, if its influence is already plainly felt 
far beyond Provence itself, this is due to the 
sheer superiority of their literary work. If 
their literature had the conventional character 
of that of the Troubadours, if it were addressed 
exclusively to a certain elite, then their lan- 
guage might have been adopted by the poets of 
other regions, just as in the days of the Trou- 
badours the masters of the art of "trobar" 
preferred to use the Limousin dialect. But the 
popular character of the movement has pre- 
vented this. It has preached the love of the 
village, and each locality, as fast as the Feli- 
brean idea gained ground, has shown greater 
affection for its own dialect. 

Mistral's work has often been compared to 
Dante's. But Dante did not impose his lan- 
guage upon Italy by the sole superiority of his 
great poem. All sorts of events, political and 
social, contributed to the result, and there is 
little reason to expect the same future for the 



THE F^LIBRIGE 41 

work of Mistral. This comparison is made 
from the linguistic point of view; it is not 
likely that any one will compare the two as 
poets. At most, it may be said that if Dante 
gave expression to the whole spirit of his age, 
Mistral has given complete expression to the 
spirit of his little patrie. Should the trend of 
events lead to a further unification of the dia- 
lects of southern France, there is no doubt that 
the Felibrean dialect has by far the greatest 
chance of success. 

The people of Provence owe a great debt to 
the Felibres, who have endowed them with a 
literature that comes closer to their sympathies 
than the classic literature of France can ever 
come ; they have been raised in their own 
esteem, and there has been undoubtedly a great 
awakening in their mental life. The Felibrige 
has given expression to all that is noblest and 
best in the race, and has invariably led onward 
and upward. Its mission has been one that 
commands respect and admiration, and the Feli- 
bres to-day are in a position to point with pride 
to the great work accomplished among their 
people. Arsene Darmesteter has well said : — 

" A nation needs poetry ; it lives not by 



42 FR£d£rIC MISTRAL 

bread alone, but in the ideal as well. Religious 
beliefs are weakening ; and if the sense of poetic 
ideals dies along with the religious sentiment, 
there will remain nothing among the lower 
classes but material and brutal instincts. 

44 Whether the Felibres were conscious of this 
danger, or met this popular need instinctively, 
I cannot say. At any rate, their work is a 
good one and a wholesome one. There still 
circulates, down to the lowest stratum of the 
people, a stream of poetry, often obscure, until 
now looked upon with disdain by all except 
scholars. I mean folklore, beliefs, traditions, 
legends, and popular tales. Before this source 
of poetry could disappear completely, the Feli- 
bres had the happy idea of taking it up, giving 
it a new literary form, thus giving back to the 
people, clothed in the brilliant colors of poetry, 
the creation of the people themselves." 

And again : 44 As for this general renovation 
of popular poetry, I would give it no other 
name than that of the Felibrige. To the Feli- 
bres is due the honor of the movement ; it is 
their ardor and their faith that have developed 
and strengthened it." 



CHAPTER III 

THE MODERN PROVENQAL LANGUAGE 

The language of the Felibres is based upon 
the dialect spoken in the plain of Maillane, in 
and about the town of Saint-Remy. This dia- 
lect is one of the numerous divisions of the 
langue d'oc, which Mistral claims is spoken by 
nearly twelve millions of people. The literary 
history of these patois has been written by B. 
Noulet, and shows that at the close of the ter- 
rible struggles of the Albigenses the language 
seemed dead. In 1324 seven poets attempted 
to found at Toulouse the competitions of the 
Crai Savoir, and so to revive the ancient poetry 
and the ancient language. Their attempt failed. 
There was literary production of varying degree 
of merit throughout two or three centuries ; 
but until the time of Jasmin no writer attracted 
any attention beyond his immediate vicinity; 
and it is significant that the Felibres them- 
selves were long in ignorance of Jasmin. It is 

43 



44 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

then not difficult to demonstrate that the Feli- 
brige revival bears more the character of a 
creation than of an evolution. It is not at all 
an evolution of the literature of the Trouba- 
dours ; it is in no way like it. The language 
of the Felibres is not even the descendant of 
the special dialect that dominated as a literary 
language in the days of the Troubadours; for 
it was the speech of Limousin that formed the 
basis of that language, and only two of the 
greater poets among the Troubadours, Raimond 
de Vaqueiras and Fouquet de Marseille, were 
natives of Provence proper. 

The dialect of Saint-Remy is simply one of 
countless ramifications of the dialects descended 
from the Latin. Mistral and his associates have 
made their literary language out of this dialect 
as they found it, and not out of the language of 
the Troubadours. They have regularized the 
spelling, and have deliberately eliminated as far 
as possible words and forms that appeared to 
them to be due to French influence, substituting 
older and more genuine forms — forms that ap- 
peared more in accord with the genius of the 
langue (Toe as contrasted with the langue d'oil. 
Thus, glori, istori, paire, replace gloaro, istouero. 



THE MODERN PROVENQAL LANGUAGE 45 

pero, which are often heard among the people. 
This was the first step. The second step taken 
arose from the necessity of making this speech 
of the illiterate capable of elevated expression. 
Mistral claims to have used no word unknown 
to the people or unintelligible to them, with the 
exception that he has used freely of the stock of 
learned words common to the whole Romance 
family of languages. These words, too, he 
transforms more or less, keeping them in har- 
mony with the forms peculiar to the langue 
d'oc. Hence, it is true that the language of the 
Felibres is a conventional, literary language, 
that does not represent exactly the speech of 
any section of France, and is related to the 
popular speech more or less as any official lan- 
guage is to the dialects that underlie it. As the 
Felibres themselves have received all their in- 
struction and literary culture in the French lan- 
guage, they use it among themselves, and their 
prose especially shows the influence of the 
French to the extent that it may be said that 
the Provengal sentence, in prose, appears to be 
a word-for-word translation of an underlying 
French sentence. 

Phonetically, the dialect offers certain marked 



46 FREDERIC MISTRAL 

differences when contrasted with French. First 
of all is the forceful utterance of the stressed 
syllable ; the Provencal has post-tonic syllables, 
unlike the sister-speech. Here it may be said 
to occupy a sort of middle position between 
Italian and Spanish on the one hand, and French 
on the other ; for in the former languages the 
accent is found in all parts of the word, in 
French practically only upon the final, and then 
it is generally weak, so that the notion of a 
stress is almost lost. The stress in Provengal 
is placed upon one of the last two syllables 
only, and only three vowels, e, i, o, may follow 
the tonic syllable. The language, therefore, 
has a cadence that affects the ear differently 
from the French, and that resembles more that 
of the Italian or Spanish languages. 

The nasal vowels are again unlike those of 
the French language. The vowel affected by 
the following nasal consonant preserves its own 
quality of sound, and the consonant is pro- 
nounced ; at the end of a word both m and n 
are pronounced as ng in the English word ring. 
The Provengal utterance of matin, terns, is 
therefore quite unlike that of the French matin, 
temps. This change of the nasal consonants 



THE MODERN PROVENQAL LANGUAGE 47 

into the ng sound whenever they become final 
occurs also in the dialects of northern Italy and 
northern Spain. This pronunciation of the 
nasal vowels in French is, as is well known, an 
important factor in the famous "accent du 
Midi." 

The oral vowels are in general like the 
French. It is curious that the close o is heard 
only in the infrequent diphthong 6u, or as an 
obscured, unaccented final. This absence of the 
close o in the modern language has led Mistral 
to believe that the close o of Old Provengal was 
pronounced like ou in the modern dialect, which 
regularly represents it. A second element of 
the " accent du Midi" just referred to is the 
substitution of an open for a close o. The 
vowel sound of the word peur is not distin- 
guished from the close sound in pen. In the 
orthography of the Felibres the diagraph ue is 
used as we find it in Old French to represent 
this vowel. Probably the most striking feature 
of the pronunciation is the unusual number of 
diphthongs and triphthongs, both ascending and 
descending. Each vowel preserves its proper 
sound, and the component vowels seem to be 
pronounced more slowly and separately than in 



48 FRiSDfiRIC MISTRAL 

many languages. It is to be noted that u in a 
diphthong has the Italian sound, whereas when 
single it sounds as in French. The unmarked 
e represents the French e, as the e mute is un- 
known to the Provengal. 

The c has come to sound like s before e and i, 
as in French. Ch and j represent the sounds 
ts and dz respectively, and g before e and i has 
the latter sound. There is no aspirate h. The 
r is generally uvular. The s between vowels is 
voiced. Only Z, r, s, and n are pronounced as 
final consonants, Z being extremely rare. Mis- 
tral has preserved or restored other final con- 
sonants in order to show the etymology, but 
they are silent except in liaison in the elevated 
style of reading. 

The language is richer in vowel variety than 
Italian or Spanish, and the proportion of vowel 
to consonant probably greater than in either. 
Fortunately for the student, the spelling rep- 
resents the pronunciation very faithfully. A 
final consonant preceded by another is mute ; 
among single final consonants only Z, m, n, r, s 
are sounded ; otherwise all the letters written 
are pronounced. The stressed syllable is indi- 
cated, when not normal, by the application of 



THE MODERN PROVENQAL LANGUAGE 49 

practically the same principles that determine 
the marking of the accent in Spanish. 

The pronunciation of the Felibres is heard 
among the people at Maillane and round about. 
Variations begin as near as Avignon. 1 

Koschwitz' Grammar treats the language 

1 The edition of Mireio published by Lemerre in 1886 con- 
tains an Avis sur la prononciation provenqale wherein numer- 
ous errors are to be noted. Here the statement is made that 
all the letters are pronounced ; that ch is pronounced ts, as 
in the Spanish word muchacho. The fact about the pro- 
nunciation of the ch is that it varies in different places, hav- 
ing at Maillane the sound ts, at Avignon, for instance, the 
sound in the English chin. It is stated further on that fer- 
ramento, capello, febre, are pronounced exactly like the 
Italian words ferramento, capello, febbre. The truth is that 
they are each pronounced somewhat differently from the 
Italian words. Provencal knows nothing of double conso- 
nants in pronunciation, and the vowels are not precisely alike 
in each pair of words. 

Later this sentence occurs: "Dans les triphthongues, 
comme biais, piei, vuei, nine, la voix doit dominer sur la 
voyelle interm^diaire, tout en faisant sentir les autres." 
Only the first two of these four words contain a triphthong. 
Vuei is a descending diphthong, the ue representing the 
French eu. Niue offers the same two vowel sounds inverted, 
with the stress on the second. 

Lastly, the example is given of the name Jeuse. It is 
spelled without the accent mark, and the reader is led to in- 
fer that it is pronounced as though it were a French name. 
Here the eu is a diphthong. The first vowel is the French e, 
the second the Italian u. The stress is on the first vowel. 



50 FREDERIC MISTRAL 

historically, and renders unnecessary here the 
presentation of more than its most striking 
peculiarities. Of these, one that evokes sur- 
prise upon first acquaintance with the dialect 
is the fact that final o marks the feminine of 
nouns, adjectives, and participles. It is a close 
0, somewhat weakly and obscurely pronounced, 
as compared, for instance, with the final o in 
Italian. In this respect Provengal is quite 
anomalous among Romance languages. In 
some regions of the Alps, at Nice, at Mont- 
pellier, at Le Velay, in Haute-Auvergne, in 
Roussillon, and in Catalonia the Latin final a 
is preserved, as in Italian and Spanish. 

The noun has but one form for the singular 
and plural. The distinction of plural and sin- 
gular depends upon the article, or upon the 
demonstrative or possessive adjective accom- 
panying the noun. In liaison adjectives take 
s as a plural sign. So that, for the ear, the 
Provengal and French languages are quite 
alike in regard to this matter. The Provencal 
has not even the formal distinction of the nouns 
in aZ, which in French make their plural in aux. 
Cheval in Proven§al is ehivau, and the plural is 
like the singular. A curious fact is the use of 



THE MODERN PROVENQAL LANGUAGE 61 

uni or wms, the plural of the indefinite article, 
as a sign of the dual number ; and this is its 
exclusive use. 

The subject pronoun, when unemphatic, is 
not expressed, but understood from the termi- 
nation of the verb. leu (je), tu (tu), and eu 
(il) are used as disjunctive forms, in contrast 
with the French. The possessive adjective 
leur is represented by si; and the reflective se 
is used for the first plural as well as for the 
third singular and third plural. 

The moods and tenses correspond exactly to 
those of the French, and the famous rule of the 
past participle is identical with the one that 
prevails in the sister language. 

Aside from the omission of the pronoun sub- 
ject, and the use of one or two constructions 
not unknown to French, but not admitted to 
use in the literary language, the syntax of the 
Provencal is identical with that of the French. 
The inversions of poetry may disguise this fact 
a little, but the lack of individuality in the sen- 
tence construction is obvious in prose. Trans- 
lation of Provengal prose into French prose is 
practically mere word substitution. 

Instances of the constructions just mentioned 



52 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

are the following. The relative object pronoun 
is often repeated as a personal pronoun, so that 
the verb has its object expressed twice. The 
French continually offers redundancy of subject 
or complement, but not with the relative. 

" Estre, ieu, lou marran que tduti i/estrangisson ! 
Estre, ieu, l'estrangie que tduti lou f ugisson ! " 

" fitre, moi, le paria, que tous rebutent ! 
Etre, moi, Fetranger que tout le monde f uit ! " 

{La Reino Jano, Act I, Scene in.) 

The particle ti is added to a verb to make 
it interrogative. 

E.g. soun-ti? sont-ils? Petrarco ignoro-ti ? 

ero-ti? etait-il? Petrarque ignore-t-il? 

This is the regular form of interrogative in 
the third person. It is, of course, entirely due 
to the influence of colloquial French. 

The French indefinite statement with the pro- 
noun on may be represented in Provencal by the 
third plural of the verb; on rrCa demande is 
translated rrCan demanda, or on rrCa demanda. 

The negative ne is often suppressed, even 
with the correlative que. 

The verb estre is conjugated with itself, as 
in Italian. 



THE MODERN PROVENQAL LANGUAGE 53 

The Provengal speech is, therefore, not at all 
what it would have been if it had had an inde- 
pendent literary existence since the days of the 
Troubadours. The influence of the French 
has been overwhelming, as is naturally to be 
expected. A great number of idioms, that 
seem to be pure gallicisms, are found, in spite 
of the deliberate effort, referred to above, to 
eliminate French forms. In La Reino Jano, 
Act III, Scene IV, we find IS vai de ndstis o$, — 
11 y va de nos os. Vejan, voyons, is used as a 
sort of interjection, as in French. The parti- 
tive article is used precisely as in French. We 
meet the narrative infinitive with de. In short, 
the French reader feels at home in the Proven- 
gal sentence; it is the same syntax and, to a 
great degree, the same rhetoric. Only in the 
vocabulary does he feel himself in a strange 
atmosphere. 

The strength, the originality, the true raison 
d'etre of the Provengal speech resides in its 
rich vocabulary. It contains a great number 
of terms denoting objects known exclusively 
in Provence, for which there is no correspond- 
ing term in the sister speech. Many plants 
have simple, familiar names, for which the 



64 FR£d£rIC MISTRAL 

French must substitute a name that is either 
only approximate, or learned and pedantic. 
Words of every category exist to express 
usages that are exclusively Provengal. 

The study of the modern language confirms 
the results, as regards etymology, reached by 
Diez and Fauriel and others, who have busied 
themselves with the Old Provengal. The great 
mass of the words are traceable to Latin etyma, 
as in all Romance dialects a large portion of 
Germanic words are found. Greek and Arabic 
words are comparatively numerous. Basque 
and Celtic have contributed various elements, 
and, as in French, there is a long list of words 
the origin of which is undetermined. 

The language shares with the other southern 
Romance languages a fondness for diminutives, 
augmentatives, and pejoratives, and is far richer 
than French in terminations of these classes. 
Long suffixes abound, and the style becomes, 
in consequence, frequently high-sounding and 
exaggerated. 

One of the most evident sources of new 
words in the language of Mistral is in its suf- 
fixes. Most of these are common to the other 
Romance languages, and have merely undergone 



THE MODERN PROVENgAL LANGUAGE 55 

the phonetic changes that obtain in this form of 
speech. In many instances, however, they differ 
in meaning and in application from their corre- 
sponding forms in the sister languages, and a 
vast number of words are found the formation 
of which is peculiar to the language under con- 
sideration. These suffixes contribute largely to 
give the language its external appearance ; and 
while a thorough and scientific study of them 
cannot be given here, enough will be presented 
to show some of the special developments of 
Mistral's language in this direction. 

-a. 

This suffix marks the infinitive of the first 
conjugation, and also the past participle. It 
answers to the French forms in -er and -e. As 
the first conjugation is a so-called " living" con- 
jugation, it is the termination of many new 
verbs. 

-a, -ado. 

-ado is the termination of the feminine of the 
past participle. This often becomes an abstract 
feminine noun, answering to the French ter- 
mination -ee; armee in Mistral's language is 



66 FR£d£rIC MISTRAL 

armado. Examples of forms peculiar to Pro- 
vengal are : 

dulivo, an olive. duliva, to gather olives. 

dulivado, olive gathering. 
pie, foot. pi ado, footprint. 

-age (masc.). 

This suffix is the equivalent of the French 
-age, and is a suffix of frequent occurrence in 
forming new words. Oulivage is a synonym of 
dulivado, mentioned above. A rather curious 
word is the adverb arrage, meaning at random, 
haphazard. It appears to represent a Latin 
adverb, erratice. 

Mourtau, mourtalo, mortal, gives the noun mourtalage, 
a massacre. 

-agno (fern.). 

An interesting example of the use of this 
suffix is seen in the word eigagno, dew, formed 
from aigo, water, as though there had been a 
Latin word aquanea. 

-aio (fern.). 
This ending corresponds to the French -aille. 
poulo, a hen. poulaio, a lot of hens, poultry. 



THE MODERN PROVENQAL LANGUAGE 57 

-aire (masc). 

This represents the Latin -ator (one who). 
The corresponding feminine in Mistral's works 
has always the diminutive form -arello. 

toumba, to fall, cantaire, cantarello, singer. 

toumbaire,toumbarello,0ne panie, basket. 

who falls or one who fells. panieraire, basket maker. 

duliva, to gather olives. caligna, to court. 

dulivaire, dulivarello, olive calignaire, suitor. 

gatherer. paternostriaire, one who is 
canta, to sing. forever praying. 

Like the corresponding French nouns in -eur, 
these nouns in -aire, as well as those in -Sire, 
are also used as adjectives. 

-aire = -arium. 

The suffix sometimes represents the Latin 
-arium. A curious word is vejaire, meaning 
opinion, manner of seeing, as though there had 
been a Latin word videarium. It sometimes 
has the form jaire or chaire, through the loss of 
the first syllable. 

-an, -ano. 

This suffix is common in the Romance lan- 
guages. Fihan, filial, seems to be peculiar to 
the Proven9al. 



58 FR^DiSRIC MISTRAL 

-anci (fern.). 

This is the form corresponding to the French 
-ance. Abundance is in Mistral's dialect aboun- 
ddnci. 

-ant, -anto. 

This is the termination of the present parti- 
ciple and verbal adjective derived from verbs 
in -a. These words sometimes have a special 
meaning, as toumbant, declivity. 

-ard, -ardo. 
Gaiard is Proven9al for the French gaillard. 

-ari. 

This represents the Latin -arius. Abouticari 
is Provencal for apothecary. 

-as. 

This is an augmentative suffix of very fre- 
quent use. 

pore, hog. pourcas, great hog. 

serp, snake. serpatas, great serpent. 

caste u, fort. castelas, fortress. 

rouco, rock. roucas, great rock. 



THE MODERN PROVENQAL LANGUAGE 69 

-asso. 
This is a pejorative suffix, 
vido, life. vidasso, wretched life. 

-astre. 
In French this suffix has the form -atre. 
dulivastre (Fr. olivatre), olive in color. 

-at. 

Coustat is in French cotS (side). 
The suffix is often diminutive. 

auc, a gander. aucat, gosling. 

passero, sparrow. passerat, small sparrow. 

-au, -alo. 

This is the form of the widely used suffix 
-al. Mistral uses paternau for paternal, and 
also the adjective formed upon paire, father, 
peirenau, peirenalo, fatherly. 

bourg, city. bourgau, bourgalo, civil. 

-edo (fern.). 

pin, pine. pinedo, pine-grove. 

clapo, stone. claparedo, stony plain. 

dulivo, olive. dulivaredo, olive-orchard. 



60 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

-eire, -erello. 

This suffix corresponds to the suffix -aire, 
mentioned above. It is appended to the stem 
of verbs not of the first conjugation. 

courre, to run. courreire, courerello, run- 

ner. 
legi, to read. legeire, legerello, reader. 

-eja. 

This is an exceedingly common verb-suffix, 
corresponding to the Italian -eggiare. 

toumbareu, kind of cart. toumbaraleja, to cart. 

farandolo, farandole. farandouleja, to dance the 

farandole. 

poutoun, Hssc poutouneja, to kiss. 

poumpoun, caress. poumpouneja, to caress. 

segnour, lord. segnoureja, to lord it over. 

mistral, wind of the Rhone mistraleja, to roar like the 

valley. mistral. 

poudro, powder. poudreja, to fire a gun. 

clar, bright. clareja, to brighten. 

-en (masc), -enco (fern.). 
This is a common adjective-suffix. 

souleu, sun. souleien, souleienco, sunny. 

mai, May. maien, maienco, relating to 

May. 
Madaleno, Magdalen. madalenen, madalenenco, 

like Magdalen. 



THE MODERN PROVENQAL LANGUAGE 61 

-es (masc), -esso (fem.). 

This suffix corresponds to the French -ais, 
-aise. Liounes = lyonnais. 

-et (masc), -eto (fem.). 

This is perhaps the commonest of the diminu- 
tive suffixes. 

ome, man. oumenet, little man. 

fiho, daughter. fiheto, dear daughter. 

enfan, child. enfantounet, little child. 

vent, wind. ventoulet, breeze. 

toamba, to fall. toumbaraleto, little leaps. 

chato, girl. chatouneto, little girh 

malaut, ill. malautounet, sickly. 

It will be observed that the double diminu- 
tive termination is the most frequent. 

Sometimes the -et is not diminutive. Ouliveto 

may mean a small olive or a field planted with 

olives. 

-eu (masc), -ello (fem.). 

This suffix is often diminutive. 

paurin, poor chap. paurineu, paurinello, poor 

little fellow or girl. 

pin, pine. pinateu, young pine. 

pinatello, forest of young 
pines. 

sauvage, wild. sauvageu, sauvagello, some- 

what wild. 



62 FREDERIC MISTRAL 

Sometimes it is not. 

toumba, to fall. toumbareu, -ello, likely to 

fall 
canta, to sing. cantareu, -ello, songful. 

crese, to believe. cresereu, -ello, inclined to 

belief. 

-i. 

This is a verb-suffix, marking the infinitive 
of a "living" conjugation. 

bourgau, civil. abourgali, to civilize. 

-ie (fern.). 

Carestie, clearness, stands in contrast to the 
Italian carestia. 

priva, to train, to tame. privadie, sweet food given in 

training animals. 

-ie (masc), -iero (fern.). 
This is the equivalent of the French -ier. 



dulivie, olive tree. pinatie 

bouchie, butcher. pinatiero. 



!, | a dwelling 
ro, J among pines. 



-ieu (masc), -ivo (fern.). 

This is the form corresponding to the French 
-if, -ive. 
ablatieu, ablative. vieu, vivo, lively. 



THE MODERN PROVENQAL LANGUAGE 63 

-ige (m.). 

According to Mistral, this represents the 
Latin -ities. We incline to think rather that 
it corresponds to -age, being added chiefly to 
words in e, -age fits rather upon stems in a, 

gounfle, swollen, gounflige, swelling. 

Felibre. Felibrige. 

paure, poor, paurige, poverty. 

-iho (fern.). 
This suffix makes collective nouns. 

pastre, shepherd. pastriho, company of shep- 

herds. 
paure, poor. pauriho, the poor, 

-in (m.), -ino (fern.). 

This is usually diminutive or pejorative, 
paurin, poor wretch. 

-ioun (fern.). 

This corresponds to the French -ion. 

nacioun, nation. abdicacioun, abdication, 

erme, desert. asserma, to dry up. 

assermacioun, thirst, dryness. 



64 FREDERIC MISTRAL 

-is (masc), -isso (fern.). 

Crida, to cry. cridadisso, cries of woe. 

chapla, to slay. chapladis, slaughter. 

coula, to flow. couladis or couladisso, flow- 

ing. 
abareja, to throw pell-mell. abarejadis, confusion. 
toumba, to fall. toumbadis, -isso, tottering 

(adj.). 

This suffix is added to the past participle 
stem 

-isoun (fern.). 
This suffix forms nouns from verbs in -i. 

abalauvi, to make dizzy, to abalauvisoun, vertigo, 
confound. 

-men (masc.). 

This corresponds to the French -ment ; basti- 
men = batiment, 



abouli, to abolish. aboulimen, abolition. 

toumba, to fall. toumbamen, fall. 

-men (adverb), 
urous, urouso, happy. urousamen, happily. 

It is to be noted here that the adverb has the 
vowel of the old feminine termination a, and 
not the modern o. 



THE MODERN PROVENQAL LANGUAGE 65 

-ot (masc), -oto (fern.). 

A diminutive suffix, 
vilo, town. viloto, little town. 

Sometimes the stem no longer exists sepa- 
rately. 

mignot, mignoto, darling. pichot, pichoto, little boy, 

little girl. 

-oto (fern.), 
passa, to pass. passaroto, passing to and fro. 

-ou (masc.). 

This is a noun-suffix of very frequent use. 
It seems to be for Latin -or and -orium. 

jouga, to play. jougadou, player. 
abla, to brag (cf . Fr. habler). abladou, braggart. 

abausi, to abuse, to exag- abausidou, braggart. 

gerate. 

courre, to run. courredou, corridor. 

lava, to wash. lavadou, lavatory. 

espande, to expand. espandidou, expanse, pano- 
rama. 

escourre, to flow out. escourredou, passage, hollow. 

toumba, to fall. toumbadou, water-fall. 

abeura, to water. abeuradou, drinking-trough. 

passa, to sift. passadou, sieve. 

mounda, to winnow. moundadou, sieve. 



66 FRfa)£RIC MISTRAL 

-ouge. 
This is an adjective suffix, 
iver, winter. ivernouge, wintry. 

-oun (masc), -ouno (fern.). 
A diminutive suffix. 

enfan, child. enf antoun, enf antouno, little 

child. 
pauriho, the poor. paurihoun, poor wretch. 

-ounge (masc). 
A suffix forming nouns from adjectives, 
viei, old. vieiounge, old age. 

-our (fern.). 
This is like the above, 
viei, old. vieiour, old age. 

-ous, -ouso. 

This is the Latin -osus ; French -eux, -euse. 
It forms many new words in Mistral. 

urous (Fr. heureux), happy. pouderous (It. and Sp. po- 
aboundous, abundant. deroso), powerful. 

pin, pine. pinous, covered with pines. 

escalabra, to climb. escalabrous, precipitous. 



THE MODERN PROVENQAL LANGUAGE 67 

-ta (fern.). 

This is the equivalent of the Latin -tas, 
French -te. In Mistral's language it is usually 
preceded by a connecting vowel e. 

moundaneta, worldliness. soucieta, society. 

paureta, poverty. 

-u (masc), -udo (fern.). 

This ending terminates the past participles 
of verbs whose infinitive ends in e. It also 
forms many new adjectives. 

astre, star. malastru, ill-starred. 

sabe, to know. saberu, learned. 

The feminine form often becomes a noun, 
escourre, to run out. escourregudo, excursion. 

-un (masc). 
This is a very common noun-suffix. 



clar, bright. 


clarun, brightness. 


rat, rat. 


ratun, lot of rats, smell of 




rats. 


paure, poor. 


paurun, poverty. 


dansa, to dance. 


dansun, love of dancing. 


plagne, to pity. 


plagium, complaining. 


viei, old. 


vieiun, old age. 



68 fr£d£ric mistral 

-uro (fern.). 

toumba, to fall. toumbaduro, a fall. 

escourre, to flow away. escourreduro, what flows 

away. 
bagna, to wet. bagnaduro, dew. 

This partial survey of the subject of the suf- 
fixes in Mistral's dialect will suffice to show 
that it is possible to create words indefinitely. 
There is no academy to check abuse, no large, 
cultivated public to disapprove of the new 
forms. The Felibres have been free. A fond- 
ness for diminutives marks all the languages of 
southern Europe, and a love of long termina- 
tions generally distinguished Spanish latinity. 
The language of the Felibres is by no means 
free from the grandiloquence and pomposity that 
results from the employment of these high- 
sounding and long terminations. Toumbarelado, 
toumbarelaire, are rather big in the majesty of 
their five syllables to denote a cart-load and its 
driver respectively. The abundance of this 
vocabulary is at any rate manifest. We have 
here not a poor dialect, but one that began with 
a large vocabulary and in possession of the 
power of indefinite development and recreation 
out of its own resources. It forms compounds 



THE MODERN PROVENQAL LANGUAGE 69 

with greater readiness than French, and the 
learner is impressed by the unusual number of 
compound adverbs, some of very peculiar for- 
mation. Touma-mai (again) is an example. 
Somewhat on the model of the French va-et- 
vient is the word li mounto-davalo, the ups and 
downs. Un regardo-veni means a look-out. 
Noun-ren is nothingness. Ped-terrous (earthy 
foot) indicates a peasant. 

Onomatopoetic words, like zounzoun, vounvoun, 
dinddnti, are common. 

Very interesting as throwing light upon the 
Provengal temperament are the numerous and 
constantly recurring interjections. This trait 
in the man of the Midi is one that Daudet has 
brought out humorously in the Tartarin books. 
It is often difficult in serious situations to take 
these explosive monosyllables seriously. 

In his study of Mistral's poetry, Gaston Paris 
calls attention to the fact that the Provengal 
vocabulary offers many words of low association, 
or at least that these words suggest what is low 
or trivial to the French reader ; he admits that 
the effect upon the Provengal reader may not 
be, and is likely not to be, the same ; but even 
the latter must occasionally experience a feeling 



70 FR^DfiRIC MISTRAL 

of surprise or slight shock to find such words 
used in elevated style. For the English reader 
it is even worse. Many such expressions could 
not be rendered literally at all. Mistral resents 
this criticism, and maintains that the words in 
question are employed in current usage with- 
out calling up the image of the low association. 
This statement, of course, must be accepted. 
It is true of all languages that words rise and 
fall in dignity, and their origin and association 
are momentarily or permanently forgotten. 

The undeniably great success of this new 
Provengal literature justifies completely the 
revival of the dialect. As Burns speaks from 
his soul only in the speech of his mother's fire- 
side, so the Provengal nature can only be fully 
expressed in the home-dialect. Roumanille 
wrote for Provengals only. Mistral and his 
associates early became more ambitious. His 
works have been invariably published with 
French translations, and more readers know 
them through the translations than through the 
originals. But they are what they are because 
they were conceived in the patois, and because 
their author was fired with a love of the lan- 
guage itself. 



THE MODERN PROVENgAL LANGUAGE 71 

As to the future of this rich and beautiful 
idiom, nothing can be predicted. The Felibrige 
movement appears to have endowed southern 
France with a literary language rivalling the 
French; it appears to have given an impulse 
toward the unification of the dialects and sub- 
dialects of the langue d'oe. But the patoisants 
are numerous and powerful, and will not 
abdicate their right to continue to speak and 
write their local dialects in the face of the 
superiority of the Felibrige literature. Is it to 
be expected that Frenchmen in the south will 
hereafter know and use three languages and 
three literatures — the local dialect, the language 
of the Felibres, and the national language and 
literature ? One is inclined to think not. The 
practical difficulties are very great ; two litera- 
tures are more than most men can become 
familiar with. 

However, this much is certain: a rich, har- 
monious language has been saved forever and 
crystallized in works of great beauty ; its revi- 
val has infused a fresh, intellectual activity into 
the people whose birthright it is ; it has been 
studied with delight by many who were not 
born in sunny Provence ; a very great contri- 



72 FR&D&RIC MISTRAL 

bution is made through it to philological study. 
Enthusiasts have dreamed of its becoming an 
international language, on account of its inter- 
mediary position, its simplicity, and the fact 
that it is not the language of any nation. 
Enthusiasm has here run pretty high, as is apt 
to be the case in the south. 

In connection with the revival of all these 
dialects the opinion of two men, eminent in the 
science of education, is of the greatest interest. 
Eugene Lintilhac approves the view of a pro- 
fessor of Latin, member of the Institute, who 
had often noticed the superiority of the peasants 
of the frontier regions over those from the in- 
terior, and who said, "It is not surprising, do 
they not pass their lives translating ? " Michel 
Breal considers the patois a great help in the 
study of the official language, on the principle 
that a term of comparison is necessary in the 
study of a language. As between Provengal 
and French this comparison would be between 
words, rather than in syntax. Often the child's 
respect for his home would be increased if he 
sees the antiquity of the speech of his fireside ; 
if, as Breal puts it, he is shown that his dialect 
conforms frequently to the speech of Henri IV 



THE MODERN PROVENQAL LANGUAGE 73 

or St. Louis. " If the province has authors like 
Jasmin, Roumanille, or Mistral, let the child 
read their books from time to time along with 
his French books; he will feel proud of his 
province, and will love France only the more. 
The clergy is well aware of this power of the 
native dialect, and knows how to turn it to 
account, and your culture is often without 
root and without depth, because you have not 
recognized the strength of these bonds that 
bind to a locality. The school must be fast to 
the soil and not merely seem to be standing upon 
it. There need be no fear of thereby shak- 
ing the authority of the official language ; the 
necessity of the latter is continually kept in 
sight by literature, journalism, the administra- 
tion of government." 

The revival of this speech could not fail to 
interest lovers of literature. If not a lineal 
descendant, it is at least a descendant, of the 
language that centuries ago brought an era of 
beauty and light to Europe, that inspired Dante 
and Petrarch, and gave to modern literatures 
the poetic forms that still bear their Provengal 
names. The modern dialect is devoted to other 
uses now ; it is still a language of brightness 



74 FR&D&RIC MISTRAL 

and sunshine, graceful and artistic, but instead 
of giving expression to the conventionalities of 
courtly love, or tending to soften the natures 
of fierce feudal barons, it now sings chiefly of 
the simple, genuine sentiments of the human 
heart, of the real beauties of nature, of the 
charm of wholesome, outdoor life, of healthy 
toil and simple living, of the love of home and 
country, and brings at least a message of hope 
and cheer at a time when greater literatures are 
burdened with a weight of discouragement and 
pessimism. 



CHAPTER IV 

THE VERSIFICATION OF THE F^LIBRES 

The versification of the Felibres follows in 
the main the rules observed by the French 
poets. As in all the Romance languages the 
verse consists of a given number of syllables, 
and the number of stressed syllables in the line 
is not constant. The few differences to be 
noted between French verse and Provengal 
verse arise from three differences in the lan- 
guages. The Provencal has no e mute, and 
therefore all the syllables theoretically counted 
are distinctly heard, and the masculine and the 
feminine rhymes are fully distinguished in pro- 
nunciation. The new language possesses a 
number of diphthongs, and the unaccented part 
of the diphthong, a u or an i, constitutes a con- 
sonant either before or after a vowel in another 
word, being really a w or a y. This prevents 
hiatus, which is banished from Provengal verse 
as it is from French, and here again theory and 

75 



76 FR£d£rIC MISTRAL 

practice are in accord, for the elision of the 
e mute where this e follows a vowel readmits 
hiatus into the French line, and no such phe- 
nomenon is known to the Provengal. Thirdly, 
the stressed syllable of each word is strongly 
marked, and verse exists as strongly and reg- 
ularly accentual as in English or German. 
This is seen in the numerous poems written to 
be sung to an air already existing. The accents 
in these pieces fall with the rhythmic beat the 
English ear is accustomed to and which it so 
misses on first acquaintance with French verse. 
A second consequence of this stronger stress is 
that verse is written without rhyme ; the entire 
Poem of the Rhone is written in ten-syllable 
feminine verses unrhymed. 

" O terns di viei, d'antico bounoumio, 
Que lis oustau avien ges de sarraio 
E que li gent, a Coundrieu coume au nostre, 
Se gatihavon, au caleu, per rire ! " (Canto I.) 

Mistral has made use of all the varieties of 
verse known to the French poets. One of the 
poems in the Isclo cT Or offers an example of 
fourteen-syllable verse; it is called ISAmira- 
dou (The Belvedere). Here are the first two 
stanzas : — 



THE VERSIFICATION OE THE FELIBRES 77 

" An casteu de Tarascoun, i'a 'no reino, i'a 'no fado 
An casteu de Tarasconn 
I'a 'no fado qne s'esconnd. 

" Aqueu qne ie dnrbira la presonn onnte es clavado 
Aqueu que ie dnrbira 
Beleu elo l'amara." * 

We may note here instances of the special 
features of Provengal versification mentioned 
above. The i in i'a, the equivalent of the 
French il y a, is really a consonant. This i 
occurs again in the fourth of the lines quoted, 
so that there is no hiatus between que and ie. 
In like manner the u of beleu, in the last line, 
stands with the sound of the English w between 
this and elo. The e of ounte is elided. It will 
be observed that there is a caesura between the 
seventh and eighth syllables of the long line, 
and that the verse has a marked rhythmic beat, 
with decided trochaic movement, — 



1 In the castle at Tarascon there is a queen, there is a fairy, 
In the castle of Tarascon 
There is a fairy in hiding. 

The one who shall open the prison wherein she is confined, 
The one who shall open for her, 
Perhaps she will love him. 



78 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

In his use of French Alexandrine, or twelve- 
syllable verse, Mistral takes few liberties as to 
caesura. No ternary verses are found in Mireio, 
that is, verses that fall into three equal parts. 
In general, it may be said that his Alexandrines, 
except in the play La Reino Jano, represent the 
classical type of the French poets. To be noted, 
however, is the presence of feminine caesuras. 
These occur, not theoretically or intentionally, 
but as a consequence of pronunciation, and are 
an additional beauty in that they vary the 
movement of the lines. The unstressed vowel 
at the hemistich, theoretically elided, is pro- 
nounced because of the natural pause interven- 
ing between the two parts of the verse. 

" Per duliva tant d'aubre ! — Hou, tout aco se f ai !" 

(Mireio, Canto I.) 

In one of the divisions of Lou Tambour (PArcolo 
(The Drummer of Arcole), the poet uses ten- 
syllable verse with the caesura after the sixth 
syllable, an exceedingly unusual caesura, imi- 
tated from the poem Grirard de Roussillon. 

" Ah ! lou pichot tambour | devengue flori ! 
Davans touto l'arma | — do en plen souleu, 
Per estela soun front | d'un rai de glori," etc. 



THE VERSIFICATION OF THE F&LIBRES 79 

Elsewhere he uses this verse divided after the 
fourth syllable, and less frequently after the 
fifth. 

The stanza used by Mistral throughout 
Mireio and Oalendau is his own invention. 
Here is the first stanza of the second canto of 
Mireio : — 

" Cantas, cantas, magnanarello, 
Que la culido es cantarello ! 
Galant soun li magnan e s'endormon di tres : 
Lis amourie soun plen de fiho 
Que lou beu terns escarrabiho, 
Coume un vou de bldundis abiho 
Que raubon sa melico i roumanin ddu gres." 

This certainly is a stanza of great beauty, and 
eminently adapted to the language. Mistral is 
exceedingly skilful in the use of it, distributing 
pauses effectively, breaking the monotony of the 
repeated feminine verses with enjambements, and 
continuing the sense from one stanza to the 
next. This stanza, like the language, is pretty 
and would scarcely be a suitable vehicle for po- 
etic expression requiring great depth or state- 
liness. Provengal verse in general cannot be 
said to possess majesty or the rich orchestral 
quality Brunetiere finds in Victor Hugo. Its 
qualities are sweetness, daintiness, rapidity, 



80 fr£d£ric mistral 

grace, a merry, tripping flow, great smoothness, 
and very musical rhythm. 

Mireio contains one ballad and two lyrics in 
a measure differing from that of the rest of 
the poem. The ballad of the Bailiff Suffren 
has the swing and movement a sea ballad should 
possess. The stanza is of six lines, of ten syl- 
lables each, with the caesura after the fifth 
syllable, the rhymes being abb^ aba. 

" Lou Baile Suf ren | que sus mar coumando." 

In the third canto occurs the famous song 
Magali, so popular in Provence. The melody 
is printed at the end of the volume. Mireio's 
prayer in the tenth canto is in five-syllable verse 
with rhymes abbab. 

The poems of the Isclo cT Or offer over eighty 
varieties of strophe, a most remarkable number. 
This variety is produced by combining in dif- 
ferent manners the verse lengths, and by changes 
in the succession of rhymes. Whatever inge- 
nuity Mistral has exercised in the creation of 
rhythms, the impression must not be created that 
inspiration has suffered through attention to 
mechanism, or that he is to be classed with the old 
Proven9al versifiers or those who flourished in 



THE VERSIFICATION OF THE F&LIBRES 81 

northern France just before the time of Marot. 
Artifice is always strictly subordinated, and the 
poet seems to sing spontaneously. No violence 
is ever done to the language in order to force 
it into artificial moulds, there is no punning in 
rhymes, there is nothing that can be charged 
against the poet as beneath the real dignity of 
his art. 

Let us look at some of the more striking of 
these verse forms. The second of Li Cansoun, 
Lou Bastimen, offers the following form : — 

"Lou bastimen ven de Maiorco 
Erne d'arange un cargamen : 
An courouna de verdi torco 
L'aubre-mestre ddu bastimen : 

Urousamen 

Ven de Maiorco 

Lou bastimen." * 

This stanza reproduces in the sixth line the 
last word of the first, and in the seventh the 
last word of the fourth. 

An excellent example of accentual verse set 
to an already existing melody is seen in Li 
Bon Prouvengau. The air is : — 

1 The ship comes from Majorca with a cargo of oranges : 
the mainmast of the ship has been crowned with green gar- 
lands : safely the ship arrives from Majorca. 

G 



82 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

" Si le roi m'avait donne 
Paris, sa grand* ville." 

We quote the first stanza : — 

" Bouf o, au siecle mounte sian 

Uno auro superbo 
Que vou f aire ren qu'un tian 

De tduti lis erbo : 
Nautri, li bon Prouvencau 
Aparan lou viei casau 

Ounte fan l'aleto 

Nosti dindouleto." 1 

This poem scans itself with perfect regu- 
larity, and the rhythm of the tune is evident 
to the reader who may never have heard the 
actual music. 

The stanza of La Tourre de Barbentano is as 
follows : — 

" L'Evesque d'Avignoun, Mounsen Grimau, 
A fa basti 'no tourre a Barbentano 
Qu* enrabio vent de mar e tremountano 
E fai despoutenta TEsprit ddu mau. 
Assegurado 

Sus lou roucas 
Forto e carrado 
Escounjurado 

1 There blows, in this age, a proud wind, which would 
make a mere hash of all herbs: we, the good Provencals, 
defend the old home over which our swallows hover. 



THE VERSIFICATION OF THE FELIBRES 83 

Porto au souleu soun front bouscas : 
Mememen i fenestro, dins lou cas 
Que vouguesse lou Diable intra di vitro, 
A fa Mounsen Grimau grava sa mitro." l 

Here is a stanza of Lou Renegat : — 

" Jan de Gounf aroun, pres per de coursari, 
Dins li Janissari 
Set an a servi : 
Fau, enco di Turc, ave la coudeno 
Facho a la cadeno 
Emai au rouvi." 2 

The stanza employed in La Cadeno de Moustie 
is remarkable in having only one masculine and 
one feminine rhyme in its seven lines : — 

" Presounie di Sarrasin, 
Engimbra coume un caraco, 
Em' un calot cremesin 
Que lou blanc souleu eidraco, 
En virant la pouso-raco, 

1 The bishop of Avignon, Monseigneur Grimoard, hath 
built a tower at Barbentane, which excites the rage of the 
sea wind and the northern blast, and strips the Spirit of Evil 
of his power. Solid upon the rock, strong, square, freed of 
demons, it lifts its fierce brow sunward ; likewise upon the 
windows, in case the devil might wish to enter thereby, Mon- 
seigneur Grimoard has had his mitre carved. 

2 John of Gonfaron, captured by corsairs in the Janis- 
saries, served seven years. Among the Turks a man must 
use his skin to chains and rust. 



84 FR£d£rIC MISTRAL 

Rico-raco, 
Blacasset pregavo ansin." 1 

The " roumanso " of La Beino Jano offers a 

stanza containing only five rhymes in fourteen 

lines : — 

" Fieu de Maiano 
S'ere vengu ddu terns 

De Dono Jano, 
Quand ero a soun printems 

E soubeirano 
Coume eron autre-tems, 

Senso autro engano 
Que soun regard courous, 
Aurieu, d'elo amourous, 
Trouva, ieu benurous, 
Tant fino cansouneto 
Que la bello Janeto 
M'aurie douna 'n manteu 
Per pareisse i casteu." 2 

The rhythm of the noble Saume de la Peni- 
tenci is as follows : — 

" Segnour, a la fin ta coulero 
Largo si tron 

1 Prisoner of the Saracens, accoutred like a gypsy, with a 
crimson turban, dried by the white sun, turning the creaking 
water-wheel, Blac prayed thus. 

2 A son of Maillane, if I had come in the days of Queen 
Joanna when she was in her springtime and a sovereign such 
as they were in those days, with no other diplomacy than her 



THE VERSIFICATION OF THE F^LIBRES 85 

Sus nosti front : 
E dins la niue nosto galero 
Pico d'a pro 
Contro li ro." * 

Another peculiar stanza is exhibited in Lou 
Prego-Dieu : — 

" Ero nn tantost d'aquest estieu 
Que ni vihave ni dourmieu : 
Fasieu miejour, tau que me plaise, 
Lou cabassou 
Toucant lou sou, 
A raise." 2 

Perhaps the most remarkable of all in point 
of originality, not to say queerness, is Lou Blad 
de Luno. The rhyme in lin is repeated through- 
out seventeen stanzas, and of course no word is 

used twice. 

" La luno barbano 
Debano 
De lano. 

bright glance, in love with her, I should have found, lucky I, 
so fine a song that the fair Joanna would have given me a 
mantle to appear in the castles. 

1 This poem will be found translated in full at the end of 
the book. 

2 It was an afternoon of this summer, 
While I neither woke nor slept, 

I was taking my noonday rest, as is my pleasure, 
My head touching the ground at ease. 



86 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

S'entend peralin 
L'aigo que lalejo 
E batarelejo 
Darrie lou moulin. 

La luno barbano 
Debano 
Delin." 1 

The little poem, Aubencho, is interesting as 
offering two rhymes in its nine lines. 

Mistral's sonnets offer some peculiarities. 
He has one composed of lines of six syllables, 
others of eight, besides those considered regular 
in French, consisting, namely, of twelve syl- 
lables. The following sonnet addressed to 
Roumania appears to be unique in form : — 

" Quand lou chaple a pres fin, que lou loup e la russi 
An rousiga lis os, lou souleu flamejant 
Esvalis gaiamen lou brumage destrussi 
E lou prat bataie tourno leu verdejant. 

" Apres lou long trepe di Turc emai di Russi 
T'an visto ansin renaisse, o nacioun de Trajan, 
Coume Pastre lusent, que sort ddu negre eslussi, 
Erne* lou nouvelun di chato de quinge an. 

1 The ghostly moon is unwinding wool. 
Afar off is heard the gurgling water shaking the clapper 

behind the mill. 
The ghostly moon is unwinding flax. 



THE VERSIFICATION OF THE FELIBRES 87 

" E li raco latino 
A ta lengo argentino 
An couneigu Founour que dins toun sang i' avie ; 

" E t'apelant germano, 
La Prouvenco roumano 
Te mando, o Roumanio, un rampau d'dulivie." x 

It would be a hopeless task for an English 
translator to attempt versions of these poems 
that should reproduce the original strophe 
forms. A few such translations have been 
made into German, which possesses a much 
greater wealth of rhyme than English. Let 
us repeat that it must not be imputed to Mis- 
tral as a fault that he is too clever a versifier. 
His strophes are not the artificial complications 
of the Troubadours, and if these greatly varied 

1 When the slaughter is over, when the wolf and the buz- 
zard have gnawed the bones, the flaming sun scatters merrily 
the hurtful vapors and the battlefield soon becomes green 
once more. 

After the long trampling of the Turks and Russians, thou, 
too, art seen thus reborn, O nation of Trajan, like the shin- 
ing star coming forth from the dark eclipse, with the youth 
of a maiden of fifteen. 

And the Latin races, in thy silvery speech, have recog- 
nized the honor that lay in thy blood ; and calling thee 
sister, the Romance Provence sends thee, Roumania, an 
olive branch. 



88 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

forms cost him effort to produce, his art is most 
marvellously concealed. More likely it is that 
the almost inexhaustible abundance of rhymes 
in the Provengal, and the ease of construction of 
merely syllabic verse, explain in great meas- 
ure his fertility in the production of stanzas. 
Some others of the F^libres, even Aubanel, in 
our opinion, have produced verse that is very 
ordinary in quality. Verse may be made too 
easily in this dialect, and fluent rhymed lan- 
guage that merely expresses commonplace sen- 
timent may readily be mistaken for poetry. 

The wealth of rhyme in the Provengal lan- 
guage appears to be greater than in any other 
form of Romance speech. As compared with 
Italian and Spanish, it may be noted that the 
Provengal has no proparoxytone words, and 
hence a whole class of words is brought into 
the two categories possible in Provengal. 
Though the number of different vowels and 
diphthongs is greater than in these two lan- 
guages, only three consonants are found as 
finals, w, r, s (I very rarely). The consequent 
great abundance of rhymes is limited by an 
insistence upon the rich rhyme to an extent 
scarcely attainable in French ; in fact, the 



THE VERSIFICATION OF THE F^LIBRES 89 

merely sufficient rhyme is very rare. It is 
unfortunate that so many of the feminine 
rhymes terminate in o. In the Poem of the 
Rhone, composed entirely in feminine verses, 
passages occur where nine successive lines end 
in this letter, and the verses in o vastly out- 
number all others. In this unrhymed poem, 
assonance is very carefully avoided. 

The play, Queen Joanna, is remarkable among 
the productions of Mistral as being the only 
work of any length he has produced that 
makes extensive use of the Alexandrine. In 
fact, the versification is precisely that of any 
modern French play written in verse ; and we 
may note here the liberties as to caesura and 
enjambements which are now usual in French 
verse. We remark elsewhere the lack of in- 
dependence in the dialect of Avignon, that its 
vocabulary alone gives it life. Not only has it 
no syntax of its own, but it really has been a 
difficulty of the poet in translating his own 
Alexandrines into French prose, not to produce 
verses ; nor has he always avoided them. Here, 
for instance, is a distich which not only becomes 
French when translated word for word, but 
also reproduces exactly metre and rhyme : — 



90 fr£d£ric mistral 

" En un mot tout me dis que lou ceu predestino 
Un revieure de glori a la terro latino. 

" En un mot tout me dit que le ciel predestine 
Un renouveau de gloire a la terre latine." 

The effectiveness, the charm, and the beauty 
of this verse, for those who understand and 
feel the language, cannot be denied; and if 
this poetic literature did not meet a want, it 
could not exist and grow as it does. The fact 
that the prose literature is so slight, so scanty, 
is highly significant. The poetry that goes 
straight to the heart, that speaks to the inner 
feeling, that calls forth a response, must be 
composed in the home speech. It is exceed- 
ingly unlikely that a prose literature of any 
importance will ever grow up in Provence. 
No great historians or dramatists, and few 
novelists, will ever write in this dialect. The 
people of Provence will acquire their knowl- 
edge and their general higher culture in French 
literature. But they will doubtless enjoy that 
poetry best which sings to them of themselves 
in the speech of their firesides. Mistral has 
endowed them with a verse language that has 
high artistic possibilities, some of which he 



THE VERSIFICATION OF THE F^LIBRES 91 

has realized most completely. The music of 
his verse is the music that expresses the nature 
of his people. It is the music of the gai savoir. 
Brightness, merriment, movement, quick and 
sudden emotion, — not often deep or sustained, 
— exuberance and enthusiasm, love of light and 
life, are predominant ; and the verse, absolutely 
free from strong and heavy combinations of 
consonants, ripples and glistens with its pretty 
terminations, full of color, full of vivacity, full 
of the sunny south. 



CHAPTER V 

MISTRAL'S DICTIONARY OF THE PROVENQAL 
LANGUAGE 

Au Miejour 

Sant Jan, vengue meissoun, abro si no de joio ; 
Amount sus Paigo-vers lou pastre pensatieu, 
En Founour ddu pais, enausso uno mount-joio 
E marco li pasquie mounte a passa Festieu. 

Emai ieu, en laurant — e quichant moun anchoio, 
Per lou noum de Prouvenco ai fa 90 que poudieu ; 
E, Dieu de moun pres-fa m'aguent douna la voio, 
Dins la rego, a geinoui, vuei rende graci a Dieu. 

En terro, fin qu'au sistre, a cava moun araire ; 
E lou brounze rouman e For dis emperaire 
Treluson au souleu dintre lou blad que sort. . . . 

O pople ddu Miejour, escouto moun arengo : 
Se vos recounquista Pemperi de ta lengo, 
Per t'arnesca de nou, pesco en aqueu Tresor. 

"Saint John, at harvest time, kindles his 
bonfires; high up on the mountain slope the 
thoughtful shepherd places a pile of stones in 



DICTIONARY OF PROVENQAL LANGUAGE 93 

honor of the country, and marks the pastures 
where he has passed the summer. 

" I, too, tilling and living frugally, have done 
what I could for the fame of Provence; and 
God having permitted me to complete my 
task, to-day, on my knees in the furrow, I 
offer thanks to Him. 

" My plough has dug into the soil down to 
the rock ; and the Roman bronze and the gold 
of the emperors gleam in the sunlight among 
the growing wheat. 

"Oh, people of the South, heed my saying: 
If you wish to win back the empire of your 
language, equip yourselves anew by drawing 
upon this Treasury." 

Such is the sonnet, dated October 7, 1878, 
which Mistral has placed at the beginning of 
his vast dictionary of the dialects of southern 
France. The title of the work is Lou Tresor 
d6u Felibrige or Dictionnaire provengal-frangais. 
It is published in two large quarto volumes, 
offering a total of 2361 pages. This great work 
occupied the poet some ten years, and is the 
most complete and most important work of its 
kind that has been made. The statement that 
this work represents for the Provengal dialect 



94 FREDERIC MISTRAL 

what Littre's monumental dictionary is for the 
French, is not exaggerated. Nothing that 
Mistral has done entitles him in a greater de- 
gree to the gratitude of students of Romance 
philology, and the fact that the work has been 
done in so masterful a fashion by one who is 
not first of all a philologist excites our wonder 
and admiration. And let us not forget that 
it was above all else a labor of love, such as 
probably never was undertaken elsewhere, un- 
less the work of Ivar Aasen in the Old Norse 
dialects be counted as such ; and there is some- 
thing that appeals strongly to the imagination 
in the thought of this poet's labor to render 
imperishable the language so dear to him. 
Years were spent in journeying about among 
all classes of people, questioning workmen 
and sailors, asking them the names they ap- 
plied to the objects they use, recording their 
proverbial expressions, noting their peculiari- 
ties of pronunciation, listening to the songs 
of the peasants ; and then all was reduced to 
order and we have a work that is really monu- 
mental. 

The dictionary professes to contain all the 
words used in South France, with their mean- 



DICTIONARY OF PROVENQAL LANGUAGE 95 

ing in French, their proper and figurative 
acceptations, augmentatives, diminutives, with 
examples and quotations. Along with each 
word we have all its various forms as they 
appear in the different dialects, its forms in 
the older dialects, the closely related forms in 
the other Romance languages, and its etymol- 
ogy. A special feature of the work in view 
of its destination is the placing of numerous 
synonyms along with each word. The diction- 
ary almost contains a grammar, for the con- 
jugation of regular and of irregular verbs in 
all the dialects is given, and each word is 
treated in its grammatical relations. Technical 
terms of all arts and trades ; popular terms in 
natural history, with their scientific equiva- 
lents ; all the geographical names of the region 
in all their forms ; proper historical names ; 
family names common in the south; explana- 
tions as to customs, manners, institutions, tradi- 
tions, and beliefs ; biographical, bibliographical, 
and historical facts of importance ; and a com- 
plete collection of proverbs, riddles, and popu- 
lar idioms — such are the contents of this 
prodigious work. 

If any weakness is to be found, it is, of course, 



96 FR^DfeRIC MISTRAL 

in the etymological part. Even here we can but 
pay tribute to Mistral. If he can be accused, 
now and then, of suggesting an etymology that 
is impossible or unscientific, let it be gratefully 
conceded that his desire is to offer the etymolo- 
gist all possible help by placing at his disposal 
all the material that can be found. The pains 
Mistral has taken to look up all possibly related 
words in Greek, Arabic, Basque, and English, 
to say nothing of the Old Provencal and Latin, 
would alone suffice to call forth the deepest 
gratitude on the part of all students of the 
subject. 

This dictionary makes order out of chaos, 
and although the language of the Felibres is 
justly said to be an artificial literary language, 
we have in this work along with the form 
adopted or created by the poet an orderly 
presentation of all the speech-forms of the 
langue d'oc as they really exist in the mouths 
of the people. 



PART SECOND 
THE POETICAL WORKS OF MISTRAL 



CHAPTER I 

THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 

I. Mireio (Mireille) 

The publication of this poem in 1859 is an 
event of capital importance in the history of 
modern Provengal literature. Recognized im- 
mediately as a master- work, it fired the ambi- 
tions of the Felibres, enlarged the horizon of 
possibilities for the new speech, and earned for 
its author the admiration of critics in and out 
of France. Original in language and in con- 
ception, full of the charm of rustic life, con- 
taining a pathetic tale of love, a sweet human 
interest, and glowing with pictures of the 
strange and lovely landscapes of Provence, the 
poem charmed all readers, and will doubtless 
always rank as a work that belongs to general 
literature. Of no other work written in this 
dialect can the same be asserted. Mistral has 
not had an equal success since, and in spite of 

Let o. 



100 FREDERIC MISTRAL 

the merit of his other productions, his literary- 
fame will certainly always be based upon this 
poem. Whatever be the destiny of this revival, 
the author of Mireio has probably already taken 
his place among the immortals of literature. 

He has incarnated in this poem all that is 
sweetest and best, all that is most typical in the 
life of his region. The tale is told, in general, 
with complete simplicity, sobriety, and concise- 
ness. The poet's heart and soul are in his 
work from beginning to end, and it seems more 
genuinely inspired than any of the long poems 
he has written subsequently. 

In the first canto the author says, — 

" Car cantan que per vautre, o pastre e gent di mas." 
For we sing for you alone, O shepherds and people of the 
farms, 

and when he wrote this verse, he was doubtless 
sincere. Later, however, he must have become 
conscious that a work of great artistic beauty 
was growing under his hand, and that it would 
find a truly appreciative public more probably 
among the cultivated classes than among the 
peasants of Provence. Hence the French prose 
translation; and hence, furthermore, a paradox 
in the position Mistral assumed. Since those 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 101 

who really appreciate and admire his poetry are 
the cultivated classes who know French, and 
since the peasants who use the dialect cannot 
feel the artistic worth of his literary produc- 
tion, or even understand the elevated diction 
he is forced to employ, should he not, after all, 
have written in French ? The idea of Rou- 
manille was simpler and less ambitious than 
that of Mistral; he aimed to give the humble 
classes about him a literature within their 
reach, that should give them moral lessons, and 
appeal to the best within them. Mistral, de- 
veloping into a poet of genius while striving 
to attain the same object, could not fail to 
change the object, and this contradiction be- 
comes apparent in Mireio, and constitutes a 
problem in any discussion of his literary 
work. 

The story of Miriio may be told in a few 
words. She is a beautiful young girl of fifteen, 
living at the mas of her father, Ramoun. She 
falls in love with a handsome, stalwart youth, 
Vincen, son of a poor basket-maker. But the 
difference in worldly wealth is too great, her 
father and mother violently oppose their union, 
and so, one night, the maiden, in despair, rushes 



102 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

away from home, across the great plain of 
the Crau, across the Rhone, across the island 
of Camargue, to the church of the three Maries. 
Vincen had told her to seek their aid in any 
time of trouble. Here she prays to the three 
saints to give Vincen to her, but the poor girl has 
been overcome by the terrible heat of the sun 
in crossing the treeless plains and is found by 
her parents and friends unconscious before the 
altar. Vincen comes also and joins his lamen- 
tations to theirs. The holy caskets are lowered 
from the chapel above, but no prayers avail to 
save the maiden's life. She expires, with words 
of hope upon her lips. 

This simple tale is told in twelve cantos ; it 
aims to be an epic, and in its external form is 
such. It employs freely the merveilleux chrS- 
tien, condemned by Boileau, and in one canto, 
La Masco (The Witch), the poet's desire to em- 
body the superstitions of his ignorant landsmen 
has led him entirely astray. The opening stanza 
begins in true epic fashion : — 

" Cante uno chato de Prouvenco 
Dins lis amour de sa jouvenco." 

I sing a maiden of Provence 
In her girlhood's love. 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 103 

The invocation is addressed to Christ: — 

Thou, Lord God of my native land, 
Who wast born among the shepherd-folk, 
Fire my words and give me breath. 

The epic character of the poem is sustained 
further than in its mere outward form; the 
manner of telling is truly epic. The art of the 
poet is throughout singularly objective, his nar- 
rative is a narrative of actions, his personages 
speak and move before us, without interven- 
tion on the part of the author to analyze their 
thoughts and motives. He is absent from his 
work even in the numerous descriptions. 
Everything is presented from the outside. 

From the outset the poem enjoyed great suc- 
cess, and the enthusiastic praise of Lamartine 
contributed greatly thereto. In gratitude for 
this, Mistral dedicated the work to Lamartine 
in one of his most happy inspirations, and these 
dedicatory lines appear in Lis Isclo d' Or and in 
all the subsequent editions of Mireio. Mistral 
had professed great admiration for the author 
of Jocelyn even before 1859, but as poets they 
stand in marked contrast. We may partly 
define Mistral's art in stating that it is utterly 
unlike that of Lamartine. Mistral's inspiration 



104 FREDERIC MISTRAL 

is not that of a Romantic ; his art sense is de- 
rived directly from the study of the Greek and 
Roman classics. In all that Mistral has written 
there is very little that springs from his per- 
sonal sorrows. The great body of his poetry 
is epic in character, and the best of his work in 
the lyric form gives expression not to merely 
personal emotion, but to the feeling of the race 
to which he belongs. 

The action of the poem begins one day that 
Vinc&n and his father Meste Ambroi, the bas- 
ket-makers, were wandering along the road in 
search of work. Their conversation makes 
them known, and depicts for us the old Mas des 
Micocoules, the home of the prosperous father 
of Mir&io. We learn of his wealth in lands, in 
olives, in almonds, and in bees. We watch the 
farm-hands coming home at evening. When 
the basket-makers reach the gate, they find the 
daughter of the house, who, having just fed her 
silkworms, is now twisting a skein. The man 
and the youth ask to sleep for the night upon a 
haystack, and stop in friendly talk with Mireio. 
The poet describes Vincen, a dark, stalwart 
youth of sixteen, and tells of his skill at his 
trade. Mdste Ramoun invites them in to supper. 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 105 

Mireio runs to serve them. In exquisite verse 
the poet depicts her grace and beauty. 

When all have eaten, at the request of the 
farm-hands, to which Mireio adds hers, Mdste 
Ambroi sings a stirring ballad about the naval 
victories of Suffren, and the gallant conduct of 
the Provengal sailors who whipped the British 
tars. 

" And the old basket-maker finished his naval 
song in time, for his voice was about to break in 
tears, but too soon, surely, for the farm-hands, 
for, without moving, with their heads intent 
and lips parted, long after the song had ceased, 
they were listening still" 

And then the men go about their affairs and 
leave Vincen and Mirdio alone together. Their 
talk is full of charm. Vincen is eloquent, like a 
true southerner, and tells his experiences with 
flashing eye and animated gestures. Here 
we learn of the belief in the three Maries, who 
have their church in the Camargue. Here Vin- 
cen narrates a foot-race in which he took part 
at Nimes, and Mireio listens in rapt attention. 
" It seems to me," said she to her mother, "that 
for a basket-maker's child he talks wonder- 
fully. O mother, it is a pleasure to sleep 



106 fr£d£ric mistral 

in winter, but now the night is too bright to 

sleep, but let us listen awhile yet. I could pass 

my evenings and my life listening to him." 

The second canto opens with the exquisite 

stanza beginning, — 

" Cantas, cantas, magnanarello 
Que la culido es cantarello ! " 

and the poet evidently fell in love with its 
music, for he repeats it, with slight variations, 
several times during the canto. This second 
canto is a delight from beginning to end ; Mis- 
tral is here in his element ; he is at his very 
best. The girls sing merrily in the lovely 
sunshine as they gather the silkworms, Mireio 
among them. Vincen passes along, and the 
two engage in conversation. Mistral cannot be 
praised too highly for the sweetness, the natural- 
ness, the animation of this scene. Mireio learns 
of Vincen's lonely winter evenings, of his sister, 
who is like Mireio but not so fair, and they 
forget to work. But they make good the time 
lost, only now and then their fingers meet as 
they put the silkworms into the bag. And 
then they find a nest of little birds, and the 
saying goes that when two find a nest at the 
top of a tree a year cannot pass but that Holy 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 107 

Church unite them. So says Mireio ; but Vincen 
adds that this is only true if the young escape 
before they are put into a cage. " Jesu moun 
Dieu ! take care," cries the young girl, " catch 
them carefully, for this concerns us." So Vin- 
cen gets the young birds, and Mir&io puts them 
carefully into her bodice; but they dig and 
scratch, and must be transferred to Vincen's 
cap ; and then the branch breaks, and the two 
fall together in close embrace upon the soft 
grass. The poet breaks into song : — 

" Fresh breezes, that stir the canopy of the 
woods, let your merry murmur soften into 
silence over the young couple! Wandering 
zephyrs, breathe softly, give time to dream, 
give them time at least to dream of happi- 
ness ! Thou that ripplest o'er thy bed, go 
slowly, slowly, little brook ! Make not so much 
sound among the stones, make not so much 
sound, for the two souls have gone off, in the 
same beam of fire, like a swarming hive — let 
them hover in the starry air ! " 

But Mireio quickly releases herself; the 
young man is full of anxiety lest she be hurt, 
and curses the devilish tree "planted a Friday ! " 
But she, with a trembling she cannot control, tells 



108 fr&d£ric mistral 

of an inner torment that takes away hearing and 
sight, and keeps her heart beating. Vincen won- 
ders if it may not be fear of a scolding from her 
mother, or a sunstroke. Then MirSio, in a sud- 
den outburst, like a Wagnerian heroine, confesses 
her love to the astonished boy, who remains 
dazed, and believes for a time that she is cruelly 
trifling with him. She reassures him, passion- 
ately. " Do not speak so," cries the boy, " from 
me to you there is a labyrinth; you are the 
queen of the Mas, all bow before you ; I, peas- 
ant of Valabregue, am nothing, Mireio, but a 
worker in the fields!" "Ah, what is it to me 
whether my beloved be a baron or a basket- 
weaver, provided he is pleasing to me. Why, 
O Vincen, in your rags do you appear to me 
so handsome?" 

And then the young man is as inspired, and 
in impassioned, well-nigh extravagant language 
tells of his love for Mireio. He is like a fig 
tree he once saw that grew thin and miserable 
out of a rock near Vaucluse, and once a year 
the water comes and the tree quenches its 
thirst, and renews its life for a year. And the 
youth is the fig tree and Mireio the fountain. 
"And would to Heaven, would to Heaven, 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 109 

that I, poor boy, that I might once a year, as 
now, upon my knees, sun myself in the beams 
of thy countenance, and graze thy fingers with 
a trembling kiss." And then her mother calls. 
Mireio runs to the house, while he stands 
motionless as in a dream. 

No resume or even translation can give the 
beauty of this canto, its brightness, its music, 
its vivacity, the perfect harmony between words 
and sense, the graceful succession of the rhymes 
and the cadence of the stanzas. Elsewhere in the 
chapter on versification a reference is made to the 
mechanical difficulties of translation, but there 
are difficulties of a deeper order. The Felibres 
put forth great claims for the richness of their 
vocabulary, and they undoubtedly exaggerate. 
Yet, how shall we render into English or French 
the word embessouna when describing the fall 
of MirSio and VincSn from the tree. Mistral 
writes : — 

" Toumbon, embessouna, sus lou souple margai." 

Bessoun (in French, lesson) means a twin, 
and the participle expresses the idea, clasped 
together like twins. (Mistral translates, " serres 
comme deux jumeaux.") An expression of 



110 FK^DfiRIC MISTRAL 

this sort, of course, adds little to the prose lan- 
guage ; but this power, untrammelled by aca- 
demic traditions, of creating a word for the 
moment, is essential to the freshness of poetic 
style. 

What is to be praised above all in these two 
exquisite cantos is the pervading naturalness. 
The similes and metaphors, however bold and 
original, are always drawn from the life of the 
speakers. Meste Ambroi, declining at first to 
sing, says " Li mirau soun creba ! " (The mirrors 
are broken), referring to the membranes of the 
locust that make its song. "Like a scythe 
under the hammer," " Their heads leaning 
together like two marsh-flowers in bloom, blow- 
ing in the merry wind," "His words flowed 
abundantly like a sudden shower on an after- 
math in May," " When your eyes beam upon 
me, it seems to me I drink a draught of per- 
fumed wine," " My sister is burned like a 
branch of the date tree," "You are like the 
asphodel, and the tanned hand of Summer dares 
not caress your white brow," " Slender as a 
dragon-fly," are comparisons taken at random. 
Of Mireio the poet says, " The merry sun hath 
hatched her out," " Her glance is like dew, 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 111 

her rounded bosom is a double peach not yet 
ripe." 

The background of the action is obtained 
by the simplest description, a cart casting the 
shadow of its great wheels, a bell now and then 
sounding afar off across the marshes, references 
to the owl adding its plaint to the song of the 
nightingale, to the crickets who stop to listen 
now and then, and the recurring verses about 
the " magnanarello " reminds us now and then, 
like a lovely leitmotiv, of the group of singing 
girls about the amorous pair. 

The next canto is called La Descoueounado 
(The Opening of the Cocoons), and it must be 
confessed that there is a slight falling off in 
interest. All that describes the life of the 
country-folk is full of sustained charm, but 
Mistral has not escaped the dangers that beset 
the modern poet who aims at the epic style. 
Here begins the recounting of the numerous 
superstitions of the ignorant peasants, and the 
wonders of Provence are interpolated at every 
turn. The maidens, while engaged in stripping 
the cocoons, make known a long list of popular 
beliefs, and then branch off into a conversa- 
tion about love. They are surprisingly well 



112 fr£d£ric mistral 

acquainted with the writings of Jean de Nos- 
tradamus, to whom the Felibres are indebted 
for a lot of erroneous ideas concerning the 
Troubadours and the Courts of Love. This 
literary conversation is not convincing, and we 
are pleased when Noro sings the pretty song of 
Magali, which, composed to be sung to an air 
well known in Provence, has become very popu- 
lar. The idea is not new ; the young girl sings 
of successive forms she will assume, to avoid the 
attentions of her suitor, and he, ingeniously, 
finds the transformation necessary to overcome 
her. For instance, when she becomes a rose, 
he changes into a butterfly to kiss her. At last 
the maiden becomes convinced of the love of 
her pursuer, and is won. 

The fourth canto, Li Demandaire (The Suit- 
ors), recalls the Homeric style, and is among 
the finest of the poem. Alari, the shepherd, 
Veran, the keeper of horses, and Ourrias, who 
has herds of bulls in the Camargue, present 
themselves successively for the hand of Mireio. 
The " transhumance des troupeaux " is de- 
scribed in verse full of vigorous movement ; 
the sheep are taken up into the Alps for the 
summer, and then in the fall brought down to 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 113 

the great plain of the Crau near the Delta of 
the Rhone. The whole description is made 
with bold, simple strokes of the brush, offering 
a vivid picture not to be forgotten. Alari, 
too, offers a marvellously carved wooden cup, 
adorned with pastoral scenes. Veran owns a 
hundred white mares, whose manes, thick and 
flowing like the grass of the marshes, are 
untouched by the shears, and float above their 
necks, as they bound fiercely along, like a fairy's 
scarf. They are never subdued, and often, after 
years of exile from the salt meadows of the 
Camargue, they throw off their rider, and gallop 
over twenty leagues of marshes to the land of 
their birth, to breathe the free salt air of the 
sea. Their element is the sea ; they have surely 
broken loose from the chariot of Neptune ; they 
are still white with foam ; and when the sea 
roars and darkens, when the ships break their 
cables, the stallions of the Camargue neigh 
with joy. 

And Ramoun welcomes Veran, and hopes 
that Mireio will wed him, and calls his daugh- 
ter, who gently refuses. The third suitor, Our- 
rias, has no better fortune. The account of 
this man's giant strength, the narrative of his 



114 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

exploits in subduing the wild bulls, are quite 
Homeric. The story is told of the scar he 
bears, how one of the fiercest bulls that he had 
branded carried him along, threw him ahead on 
the ground, and then hurled him high into the 
air. The strong, fierce man presents his suit, 
describing the life the women lead in the 
Camargue ; but before he has her love, "his 
trident will bear flowers, the hills will melt 
away like wax, and the journey to Les Baux 
will be by sea." This canto and the next, 
recounting the fierce combat between Ourrias 
and Vincen, are really splendid narrative poetry. 
The style is marvellously compressed, and the 
story thrilling. The sullen anger of Ourrias, 
his insult that does not spare Mireio, the indig- 
nation of Vincen, that fires him with unwonted 
strength, the battle of the two men out alone 
in the fields near the mighty Pont du Gard, 
Vincen's victory in the trial of strength, the 
treachery of Ourrias, who sneaks back and 
strikes his enemy down with the trident. 
" With a mighty groan the hapless boy rolls at 
full length upon the grass, and the grass yields, 
bloody, and over his earthy limbs the ants of 
the fields already make their way." The 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 116 

rapidity, the compactness of the sentences, 
impressed Gaston Paris as very remarkable. 
The assassin gallops away upon his mare, and 
seeks by night to cross the Rhone. A singu- 
larly felicitous use of the supernatural is made 
here. Ourrias is carried to the bottom of the 
river by the goblins and spirits that come out 
and hover over it at night. There is a certain 
terror in this termination, something that recalls 
parts of the Inferno. Ourrias's superstitious 
fears are the effect of his guilty conscience. 
The souls of the damned, their weird ceremo- 
nial, are but the outward rendering of the 
inward terror he feels. 

A less legitimate use of the supernatural 
is made in the succeeding canto, called La 
Masco (The Witch). In fact, the canto is 
really a blemish in the beautiful poem. Vin- 
cen is found unconscious and carried to the 
Mas des Micocoules, and various remedies tried. 
He comes to himself, but the wound is deemed 
too serious to be healed by natural means, 
and Mireio, at the suggestion of one of her 
maiden friends, takes Vincen to the abode of 
the witch who lives in the Fairies' Hole under 
the rocks of Les Baux. Besides the obvious 



116 FR&D&RIC mistral 

objection that the magic cure could not have 
been made, there is the physical impossibility of 
Vincen's having walked, in his dying condi- 
tion, through the labyrinth of subterranean 
passages, amid the wild scenes of a sort of Wal- 
purgis night. The poet was doubtless led into 
this error by his desire to preserve all the 
legends and superstitious lore of Provence. 
Possibly he was led astray also by his desire 
to create an epic poem, in which a visit to 
the lower regions is a necessity. The entire 
episode is impossible and uninteresting, and 
is a blot in the beautiful idyll. Later on, this 
desire to insert the supernatural leads the poet 
to interrupt the action of his poem, while the 
three Maries relate to the unconscious Mireio 
at great length the story of their coming from 
Jerusalem to Provence. Interesting as folk- 
lore, or as an evidence of the credulity of the 
Provengals, this narrative of the three Maries 
is out of place in the poem. It does not help 
us out to suppose that Mireio dreams the nar- 
rative, for it is full of theology, history, and 
traditions she could not possibly have con- 
ceived. The poem of Mireio and all Mistral's 
work suffer from this desire to work into his 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 117 

poetry all the history, real and legendary, of 
his region. 

The three Maries are Mary Magdalen, Mary, 
the mother of James and John, and Mary, the 
mother of James the Less. After the Cruci- 
fixion they embark with Saint Trophime, and 
successfully battling with the storms of the 
sea, they land finally in Provence, and by a 
series of miracles convert the people of Aries. 
This canto never would have converted Boileau 
from his disapproval of the " merveilleux Chre- 
tien." 

The poet finds his true inspiration again in 
the life of the Mas, in the home-bringing of 
the crops, in the gathering of the workers 
about the table of Meste Ramoun. This picture 
of patriarchal life is like a bit out of an ancient 
literature ; we have a feeling of the archaic, of 
the primitive, we are amid the first elements 
of human life, where none of the complications 
of the modern man find a place. Meste Am- 
broi, whom Vincen has finally persuaded with 
passionate entreaties to seek the hand of Mireio 
for him, comes upon this evening scene. The 
interview of the two old men is like a Greek 
play ; their wisdom and experience are uttered 



118 FR&D&RIC MISTRAL 

in stately, sententious language, and many a 
proverb falls from their lips. Ramoun has 
inflexible ideas as to parental authority : " A 
father is a father, his will must be done. 
The herd that leads the herdsman, sooner or 
later, is crunched in the jaws of the wolf. If 
a son resisted his father in our day, the father 
would have slain him perhaps ! Therefore the 
families were strong, united, sound, resisting 
the storm like a line of plane trees ! Doubt- 
less they had their quarrels, as we know, but 
when Christmas night, beneath its starry tent, 
brought together the head of the house and his 
descendants, before the blessed table, before 
the table where he presided, the old man, with 
his wrinkled hand, washed it all away with his 
benediction ! " 

But Mireio and not Meste Ambroi makes 
known to her father that it is her hand Vincen 
seeks, and the mother and father break out in 
anger against the maid. Ramoun's anger leads 
him to speak offensively to Meste Ambroi, who 
nobly maintains his dignity amid his poverty, 
and recounts his services to his country that 
have been so ill repaid. Ramoun is equally 
proud of his wealth, earned by the sweat of 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 119 

his brow, and sternly refuses. The other 
leaves, and then the harvesters continue their 
merry-making, with singing and farandoles, 
about a great bonfire in honor of Saint John. 
" All the hills were aglow as if stars had rained 
in the darkness, and the mad wind carried up 
the incense of the hills and the red gleam of 
the fires toward the saint, hovering in the blue 
twilight." 

That night Mireio grieved and wept for 
Vincen, and, remembering what he had told 
her of the three Saint Maries, rises before the 
dawn and flees away. Her journey across the 
Crau and the island of Camargue is narrated 
with numerous details and descriptions ; they 
are never extraneous to the action, and are a 
constant source of beauty and interest. The 
strange, barren plain of the Crau, covered with 
the stones that once destroyed a race of Giants, 
as the legend has it, is vividly described, as 
the maiden flies across it in the ardent rays 
of the June sun. She stops to pray to a saint 
that he send her a draught of water, and im- 
mediately she comes upon a well. Here she 
meets a little Arlesian boy who tells her "in 
his golden speech" of the glories of Aries. 



120 FREDERIC MISTRAL 

" But," says the poet, " O soft, dark city, the 
child forgot to tell thy supreme wonder ; O 
fertile land of Aries, Heaven gives pure beauty 
to thy daughters, as it gives grapes to the 
autumn, and perfumes to the mountains and 
wings to the bird." The little fellow talks of 
many things and leads her to his home. From 
here the fisherman ferries her over the broad 
Rhone, and we accompany her over the Ca- 
margue, down to the sea D A mirage deceives 
her for a time, she sees the town and church, 
but it soon vanishes in air, and the maiden 
hurries on in the fierce heat. 

Her prayer in the chapel is written in an- 
other verse form : — 

O Santi Mario 
Que poudes en flour 
Chanja nosti plour 
Clinas leu Fauriho 
De-vers ma doulour ! " 

O Holy Maries, who can change our tears to blossoms, 
incline quickly an ear unto my grief ! 

Before the prayer is ended, there begins the 
vision of the three Maries, descending to her 
from Heaven, 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 121 

Meste Ramoun discovers the flight of the 
unhappy maiden, and with all his family starts 
in pursuit. After the first outburst of grief, he 
sends out a messenger. 

"Let the mowers and the ploughmen leave 
the scythes and the ploughs ! Say to the har- 
vesters to throw down their sickles, bid the 
shepherds leave their flocks, bid them come 
to me!" 

The boy goes out into the fields, among the 
mowers and gleaners, and everywhere solemnly 
delivers his message in the selfsame words. 
He goes down to the Crau, among the dwarf 
oaks, and summons the shepherds. All these 
toilers gather about the head of the farm and 
his wife, who await them in gloomy silence. 
Meste Ramoun, without making clear what 
misfortune has overtaken him, entreats the men 
to tell him what they have seen. And the 
chief of the haymakers, father of seven sons, 
tells of an evil omen, how, for the first time in 
thirty years, at the beginning of his day's work, 
he had cut himself. The parents moan the 
more. Then a mower from Tarascon tells how 
as he began his work he had discovered a nest 
wherein the young birds had been done to 



122 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

death by a myriad of invading ants. Again 
"the tale of woe was a lance-thrust for the 
father and mother." A third had been taken 
as with epilepsy, a shudder had passed over 
him, and through his dishevelled hair as through 
the heads of thistles he had felt Death pass like 
a wind. A fourth had seen Mireio just before 
the dawn, and had heard her say, " Will none 
among the shepherds come with me to the Holy 
Maries ? " And then while the mother laments, 
preparations are made to follow the maiden to 
the shrines out yonder by the sea. 

This poem, then, depicts for us the rustic life 
of Provence in all its outward aspects. The 
pretty tale and the description of the life of the 
Mas and of the Provengal landscapes are insepa- 
rably woven together, forming an harmonious 
whole. It is not a tragedy, all the characters 
are too utterly lacking in depth. Vincen and 
Mireio are but a boy and a girl, children just 
awakening to life. The reader may be re- 
minded of Hermann and Dorothea, of Gabriel 
and Evangeline, but the creations of the German 
and the American poet are greatly superior in 
all that represents study of the human mind 
and heart. 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 123 

Goethe's poem and Mistral's have several 
points of likeness. Hermann seeks to marry 
against his father's wish, and the objection is 
the poverty of Dorothea. The case is merely in- 
verted. Both poems imitate the Homeric style, 
Goethe's more palpably than Mistral's, since the 
German poet has adopted the Homeric verse. 
He affects, also, certain recurring terms of ex- 
pression, "Also sprach sie" and the like, and 
there is a rather artificial seeking after sim- 
plicity of expression. Goethe's poem is more 
interesting because of the greater solidity of 
the characters, and because of the more closely 
knitted plot. The curiosity of the reader is 
kept roused as in a well-constructed romance. 
Mistral's poem has, after all, scarcely any more 
real local color; the rustic life of the two 
poems is similar, allowing for geographical 
differences, and we carry away quite as real a 
picture of Hermann's home and the fields about 
it as of the Mas of Meste Ramoun. Mistral's 
idyll terminates tragically in that Mireio dies 
of sunstroke, leaving her lover to mourn, but 
the tenor of the German poem is more serious 
and moves us more deeply ; the background of 
war contributes to this, but the source of our 



124 FR^DibRIC MISTRAL 

emotion is in the deep seriousness of the char- 
acters themselves. 

Vincen and Mireio are charming in their 
naivete, they are unspoiled and unreflecting. 
They are children, and lacking in well-defined 
personality. They have no knowledge of any- 
thing beyond the customs and superstitions of 
the simple folk about them. Their religion, 
which is so continually before us, furnishing 
the very mainspring of the fatal denouement, 
is of the most superficial sort, if it can be called 
religion at all. Whether you are bitten by a 
dog, a wolf, or a snake, or lose your eyesight, 
or are in danger of losing your lover, you run 
to the shrine of some saint for help. The re- 
ligious feeling really runs no deeper. In his 
outburst of grief upon seeing Mirdio prone upon 
the floor of the chapel, the unhappy boy asks 
what he has done to merit such a blow. " Has 
he lit his pipe in a church at the lamp? or 
dragged the crucifix among thistles, like the 
Jews ? " Of the deeper, nobler consolations of 
religion, of the problems of human destiny, of 
the relations of religious conviction to human 
conduct, there is no inkling. 

All the characters are equally on the surface. 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 125 

They are types rather than individuals. They 
have in common the gift of eloquence. They 
have no thought-life, no meditation. They are 
eminently sociable, frequently loquacious. 
They make you think of Daudet's statement 
concerning the man of the south, "When he 
is not talking, he is not thinking." But they 
talk well, and have to an eminent degree the 
gift of narrative. VincSn's stories of what he 
knows and has seen are told most beautifully, 
and the poet never forgets himself by making 
the boy utter thoughts he could not have con- 
ceived. The boy is merely a child of his race. 
In any rustic gathering in southern France you 
may hear a man of the people speak dramati- 
cally and thrillingly, with resonant voice and 
vivid gestures, with a marvellous power of 
mimicry, and the faces of the listeners reflect 
all the emotions of the speaker. The numerous 
scenes, therefore, wherein a group of listeners 
follow with keenest interest a tale that is told, 
are eminently true to life. The supreme merit 
of Mireio lies in this power of narration that its 
author possesses. It is all action from begin- 
ning to end, and even the digressions and epi- 
sodes, which occasionally arrest the flow of the 



126 FE^D^RIC MISTRAL 

narrative, are in themselves admirable pieces of 
narrative. Most critics have found fault with 
these episodes and the frequent insertion of 
legends. In defence of the author, it may be 
said, that he must have feared while writing 
Mireio that it might be his last and only oppor- 
tunity to address his countrymen in their own 
dialect, and in his desire to bring them back to 
a love of the traditions of Provence, he yielded 
to the temptation to crowd his poem rather 
more than he would otherwise have done. 

Mireio, then, is a lovely poem, an idyll, a 
charming, vivid picture of life in the rural parts 
of the Rhone region. It is singularly original. 
Local color is its very essence. Its thought 
and action are strictly circumscribed within the 
boundaries of the Crau and the Camargue, and 
its originality consists in this limitation, in the 
fact that a poet of this century has written a 
work that comes within the definition of an 
epic, with all the primitive simplicity of Bibli- 
cal or Classic writers, without any agitation of 
the problems of modern life, without any new 
thought or feeling concerning love or death, or 
man's relation to the universe, using a dialect 
unknown at the time beyond the region de- 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 127 

scribed. Its success could scarcely have been 
attained without the poet's masterly prose trans- 
lation, and yet it is evident that the poem could 
not have been conceived and carried out in 
French verse. The freshness, the artlessness, 
the lack of modernity, would have suffered if 
the poet had bent his inspiration to the offi- 
cial language. Using a new idiom, wherein 
he practically had no predecessor, he was free 
to create expression as he went along, and was 
not compelled to cast his thought in existing 
moulds. 

The poem cannot place its author among the 
very great poets of the world, if only because 
of this limitation. It lacks the breadth and 
depth, the everlasting interest. But it is a 
work of great beauty, of wonderful purity, a 
sweet story, told in lovely, limpid language, 
and will cause many eyes to turn awhile from 
other lands to the sunny landscapes of southern 
France. 

II. Calendau. (Calendal.) 

Mistral spent seven years in elaborating his 
second epic, as he did in writing his first. The 
poem had not a popular success, and the reason 



128 FREDERIC MISTRAL 

is not far to seek. The most striking limita- 
tion of the poet is his failure to create beings 
of flesh and blood. Even in Mireio this lack 
of well-defined individuality in the characters 
begins to be apparent, but, in general, the 
action of the earlier poem is confined to the 
world of realities, whereas in Calendau the poet 
has given free play to a brilliant and vivid 
imagination, launching forth into the heroic 
and incredible, yet without abandoning the 
world of real time and real places. Allegory 
and symbolism are the web and woof of Cal- 
endau. The poem, again, is overburdened with 
minute historic details and descriptions, which 
are greatly magnified in the eye of his imagina- 
tion. A poet, of course, must be pardoned for 
this want of a sense of proportion, but even a 
Provengal reader cannot be kept in constant 
illusion as to the greatness of little places that 
can scarcely be found upon the map, or dazzled 
by the magnificence of achievements that really 
have left little or no impress upon the history 
of the world. As we follow the poet's work in 
its chronological development, we find this trait 
growing more and more pronounced. He sees 
his beloved Provence, its past and present, and 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 129 

its future, too, in a magnifying mirror that 
embellishes all it reflects with splendid, glow- 
ing colors, and exalts little figures to colos- 
sal proportions. The reader falls easily under 
the spell of this exuberant enthusiasm and 
is charmed by the poetic power evinced. The 
wealth of words, the beauty of the imagery 
with which, for example, the humble, well-nigh 
unknown little port of Cassis and its fishing 
industry are described, carry us along and hold 
us in momentary illusion. We see them in the 
poet's magic mirror for the time. To the 
traveller or the sober historian all these things 
appear very, very different. 

With the Felibres the success of the poem 
was much greater ; it is a kind of patriotic 
hymn, a glorification of the past of Provence, 
and a song of hope for its future. Its allegory, 
its learned literary allusions, its delving into 
obscure historic events, preclude any hope of 
popular success. 

Like Mireio, the poem is divided into twelve 
cantos, and the form of stanza employed is the 
same. The heroic tone of the poem might be 
thought to have required verse of greater state- 
liness ; the recurrence of the three feminine 



130 fr6d*ric mistral 

rhymes in the shorter verses often seems too 
pretty. Like Mireio, the poem has the outward 
marks of an epic. Unlike Mireio, it reminds us 
frequently of the Chansons de geste, and we see 
that the author has been living in the world of 
the Old Provengal poets. This is apparent not 
merely in the constant allusions, in the repro- 
ductions of episodes, but in the manner in 
which the narrative moves along. Lamartine 
would not have been reminded of the ancient 
Greek poets had Calendau preceded Mireio. 
The conception of courtly love, the guiding, 
elevating inspiration of Beatrice, leading Dante 
on to greater, higher, more spiritual things, are 
the sources of the chief ideas contained in Cal- 
endau. Vincen and Mireio remain throughout 
the simple youth and maiden they were, but 
Calendau, " the simple fisherman of Cassis," de- 
velops into a great hero, performing Herculean 
tasks, like a knight of the days of chivalry, and 
rises higher and higher until he wins "the 
empire of pure love" — his lady's hand. 

Very beautiful is the invocation addressed to 
the " soul of his country that radiates, manifest 
in its language and in its history — that 
through the greatness of its memories saves 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 131 

hope for him." It is the spirit that inspired 
the sweet Troubadours, and set the voice of 
Mirabeau thundering like the mistral. The 
poet proclaims his belief in his race. " For the 
waves of the ages and their storms and horrors 
mingle the nations and wipe out frontiers in 
vain. Mother Earth, Nature, ever feeds her 
sons with the same milk, her hard breast will 
ever give the fine oil to the olive ; Spirit, ever 
springing into life, joyous, proud, and living 
spirit that neighest in the noise of the Rhone 
and in the wind thereof ! spirit of the harmo- 
nious woods, and of the sunny bays, pious soul 
of the fatherland, I call thee ! be incarnate in 
my Provengal verse ! " 

We are plunged in orthodox fashion in 
medias res. The young fisherman is seated 
upon the rocky heights above the sea before the 
beautiful woman he loves. He does not know 
w r ho she is; he has performed almost super- 
human exploits to win her ; but there is an 
obstacle to their union. She relates that she is 
the last of the family of the Princes des Baux, 
who had their castle and city hewn out of the 
solid rock in the strange mountains that over- 
look the plain of Aries. She tells the mar- 



132 fr£d£ric mistral 

vellous history of the family, evoking a vision 
of the days of courtly love when the Trouba- 
dours sang at the feet of the fair princesses. A 
panorama of the life of those days of poetry and 
song moves before us. The princess even de- 
scribes and defines in poetic language the forms 
of verse in vogue in the ancient days, the Ten- 
son, the Pastoral, the Ballad, the Sirventes, the 
Romance, the Conge, the Aubade, the Solace of 
Love. She relates her marriage with the Count 
Severan, who fascinated her by some mysterious 
power. At the wedding-feast she learns that 
he is a mere bandit, leader of a band of rob- 
bers that infests the country. She fled away 
through the mountains and found the grotto 
where she now lives. The fishermen, seeing 
her appear and vanish among the cliffs, take 
her to be the fairy Esterello, who is a sort of 
Loreley. Calendau determines that either 
Severan or he shall die, and seeks him out. 
His splendid physical appearance and bold, de- 
fiant manner arouse in the bandit a desire to get 
Calendau to join his company, and the women 
of the band are charmed with him. They ask 
to hear the story of his life, and the great 
body of the poem consists of the narrative by 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 133 

Calendau of his exploits. After the last one 
Calendau has risen to the loftiest conception of 
pure love through the guidance of Esterello, 
like Dante inspired by Beatrice. Then the 
Count holds an orgy and tries to tempt the 
virtue of the hero. Calendau, after witnessing 
the lascivious dances, challenges the Count to 
mortal combat. The latter knows now who he 
is, and that Esterello is none other than the 
bride who fled after the marriage-feast. Cal- 
endau is overpowered and imprisoned, and the 
Count and his men set off in search of Este- 
rello. But Calendau is freed by Fourtuneto, 
one of the women, and journeys by sea from 
Cannes to Cassis to defend the Princess. Here 
a great combat takes place with the Count, who 
fires the pine-woods and perishes miserably, 
uttering blasphemous imprecations. The Cas- 
sidians fight the fire, and Calendau and the 
blond Princess are saved. 

"The applause of two thousand souls sa- 
lutes them and acclaims them. ; Calendau, 
Calendau, let us plant the May for the con- 
queror of Esterello. He glorifies, he brings to 
the light our little harbor of fishermen, let us 
make him Consul, Consul for life ! ' So saying 



134 FR&DfiRIC MISTRAL 

the multitude accompanies the generous, happy 
pair of lovers, and the sun that God rules, the 
great sun, rises, illumines, and procreates end- 
lessly new enthusiasms, new lovers." 

The poem clearly symbolizes the Provengal 
renascence; Calendau typifies the modern Pro- 
vengal people, rising to an ideal life and great 
achievements through the memory of their tra- 
ditions, and this ideal, this memory, are per- 
sonified in the person of the beautiful Princess. 

The time of the action is the eighteenth cen- 
tury, before the Revolution. This is a delib- 
erate choice of the poet who has a temporal 
symbolism in mind. " I shall thus combine in 
my picture the three aspects of Provence on the 
eve of the Revolution: in the background, the 
noble legends of the past ; in the foreground 
the social corruption of the evil days; and 
before us the better future, the future and the 
reparation personified in the son of the work- 
ing classes, guardians of the tradition of the 
country." 

As regards the execution, it is masterly, and 
cannot be ranked below Mireio. There is the 
same enthusiastic love of nature, the same as- 
tonishing resources of expression, the same 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 135 

novelty and originality. In place of the rustic 
nature of Mireio, we have the wild grandeur of 
mountains and sea. There is the same, nay, 
even greater, eloquence of the speakers, the 
same musical verse. 

" Car, d'aquesto ouro, ounto es la raro 

Que di delice nous separo, 
Jouine, amourous que siam, libre coume d'auceu? 

Regardo : la Naturo brulo 

A noste entour, e se barrulo 

Dins li bras de l'Estieu, e chulo 
Lou devourant alen de soun nove rousseu. 

" Li serre clar e blu, li colo 
Palo de la calour e molo, 

Boulegon tref ouli si mourre ... Ve la mar : 
Courouso e lindo coumo un veire, 
Dou grand souleu i rai beveire 
Enjusqu'au founs se laisso veire, 

Se laisso coutiga per lou Rose e lou Var." 

" For now, where is the limit that separates 
us from joy, young, amorous as we are, free as 
birds ! Look: Nature burns around us and 
rolls in the arms of Summer, and drinks in the 
devouring breath of her ruddy spouse. The 
clear, blue peaks, the hills, pale and soft with 
the heat, are thrilled and stir their rounding 
summits. Behold the sea, glistening and lim- 



136 FE^D^RIC MISTRAL 

pid as glass; in the thirsty rays of the great 
sun, she allows herself to be seen clear to the 
bottom, to be caressed by the Rhone and the 
Var." 

These are the words of Calendau when, seek- 
ing his reward after his final exploit, he learns 
that he has won the love of Esterello. The 
poet never goes further in the voluptuous 
strain, and the mere music of the words, espe- 
cially beginning " Ve la mar " is exquisite. 
They are found in the first canto. This scene 
wherein the Princess refuses to wed Calendau 
is typical of the poet. The northern tem- 
perament is not impressed with these long 
tirades, full of ejaculations and apostrophes; 
they are apt to seem unnatural, insincere, and 
theatrical. Intense feeling is not so verbose in 
the north. In this particular Mistral is true to 
his race. We quote entire the words of Calen- 
dau after the refusal of Esterello, itself full 
exclamation and apostrophizing : — 

" Then I have but won the thirst, the weari- 
ness of the midshipman, when he is about to 
reach the summit of the mainmast, and sees 
gleaming at the limit of the liquid plain naught 
but water, water eternally! Well, if thou wilt 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 137 

hear it, listen! and let the heath resound with 
it! It is thou, false woman that thou art, it is 
thou that hast deceived me, luring me on to 
believe that at the summit of the peaks I should 
find the splendor of a sublime dawn, that after 
winter spring would come, that there is noth- 
ing so good as the food earned by labor. Thou 
hast deceived me, for in the wilderness I found 
naught but drought; and the wind of this 
world and its idle noise, the embarrassment of 
luxury, and the din of glory, and what is called 
the enjoyment of triumph, are not worth a 
little hour of love beneath a pine tree! See, 
from my hand the bridle escapes, my skull is 
bursting, and I am not sure now that the people 
in their fear are not right in dreading thee like 
a ghost, now that I feel, as my reward, thy 
burning poison streaming through my heart. 
Yes, thou art the fairy Esterello, and thou art 
unmasked at last, cruel creature ! In the chill 
of thy refusal I have known the viper. Thou 
art Esterello, bitter foe to man, haunting the 
wild places, crowned with nettles, defending 
the desert against those who clear the land. 
Thou art Esterello, the fairy that sends a shud- 
der through the foliage of the woods and the 



138 FRfiD^lRIC MISTRAL 

hair of the terrified hermit; that fires with the 
desire of her perfumed embrace her suitors and 
in malevolence drives them to despair with 
infernal longings. 

"My head is bursting, and since from the 
heights of my supernatural love a thunderbolt 
thus hurls me down, since, nothing, nothing 
henceforth, from this moment on, can give me 
joy, since, cruel woman, when thou couldst 
throw me a rope, thou lea vest me, in dismay, to 
drink the bitter current — let death come, black 
hiding-place, bottomless abyss! let me plunge 
down head first ! " 

And when Esterello, fearing he will slay 
himself, clasps him about the neck, they stand 
silently embraced, " the tears, in tender min- 
gling, rain from their eyes; despair, agitation, 
a spell of happiness, keep their lips idle, and 
from hell, at one bound, they rise to para- 
dise." 

Like the creations of Victor Hugo's poetry, 
those of Mistral speak the language of the 
author. They have his eloquence, his violent 
energy of figurative speech, his love of the wild, 
sunny landscapes about them; they thrill as he 
does, at the memories of the past ; they love, as 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 139 

he does, enumerations of trees and plants; they 
have his fondness for action. 

The poem is filled with interesting episodes. 
One that is very striking in the narrative of 
Esterello we shall here reproduce. 

We are at the wedding feast of Count Seve- 
ran and the Princess des Baux. The merry- 
making begins to be riotous, and the Count has 
made a speech in honor of his bride, promising 
to take her after the melting of the snows to his 
Alpine palaces, where the walls are of steel, the 
doors of silver, the locks of gold, and when the 
sun shines their crystal roofs glitter like flame. 

" Scarcely from his lips had fallen these wild 
words, when the door of the banquet hall opens, 
and we see the head of an old man, wearing a 
bonnet and a garment of rough cloth; we see 
the dust and sweat trickling down his tanned 
cheeks. The bridegroom, with a terrible 
glance, like the lightning flash of a fearful 
storm, turns suddenly pale, and seeks to stop 
him; but he, whom the glance cannot harm, 
calmly, impassively, like God when he clothes 
himself like a poor man, to confound sometimes 
some rich evil-doer, slowly advances toward 
the bridegroom, crosses his arms, and scans 



140 fr£d£ric mistral 

his countenance. And he says not a word 
to any one, and all are afraid; a weight of 
lead lies upon every heart, and from without 
there seems to blow in upon the lamps an icy 
wind. 

"Finally, a few of them, shaking off their 
oppression, 'If there come not soon a famine to 
wipe out this hideous tribe, we shall be eaten 
by beggars within four days ! To the merry 
bridal pair, what hast thou to say, old scullion? ' 
And they continue to taunt him cruelly. The 
outraged peasant holds his peace. 'With his 
blear eyes, his white pate, his limping leg, 
whither comes he trudging? Pelican, bird of 
ill omen, go to thy hole and hide thy sorry 
face.' The stranger swallows their insults, 
and casts toward the bridegroom a beseeching 
glance. 

"But others cry: * Come on, old man, come on! 
Come on, fear not the company, the laughing 
and joking of these pretty gentlemen. Hunt 
about the tables for the dainties and the car- 
casses. Hast thou a good jaw? Here, catch 
this piece of pork and toss off a glass of 
wine ! ' 

" * No,' at length comes an answer from the 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 141 

old man, in a tone of deep sadness, ' gentlemen, 
I do not beg, and have never desired what 
others leave: I seek my son.' — 'His son! 
What is he saying — the son of this seller 
of eelskins hovering about the Baroness of 
Aiglun ? ' 

"And they look at each other in doubt, in 
burning scorn. I listened. Then they said: 
'Where is thy son? Show thy son, come on! 
and beware. If, to mock us, thou lie, wretch, 
at the highest gargoyle of the towers of Aiglun, 
without mercy, we'll hang thee! ' 

" ' Well, since I am disowned, and relegated 
to the sweepings,' the old man begins, draped 
in his sayon, and with a majesty that frightens 
us, 'you shall hear the crow sing! ' Then the 
Count, turning the color of the wall, cold as a 
bench of stone, said, 'Varlets, here, cast out 
this dismal phantom ! ' Two tears of fire, that 
pierced the ground, and that I still see shining, 
streamed down the countenance of the poor old 
man, ah! so bitter, that we all became white as 
shrouds. 

u ' Like Death, I come where I am forgotten, 
without summons. I am wrong!' broke out 
the unhappy man, 'but I wished to see my 



142 FK^D^RIC MISTRAL 

daughter-in-law. Come on, east out this dis- 
mal phantom, who is, however, thy father, O 
splendid bridegroom ! ' 

"I uttered a cry; all the guests rose from their 
chairs. But the relentless old man went on: 
4 My lords, to tear from the evil fruit its whole 
covering, I have but two words to say. Be 
seated, for I still see on the table dishes not yet 
eaten.' 

"Standing like palings, silent, anxious, the 
guests remained with hearts scarce beating. I 
trembled, my eyes in mist. We were like the 
dead of the churchyard about some funeral 
feast, full of terror and mystery. The Count 
grinned sardonically. 

" ' Thou shalt run in vain, wretch,' said the 
venerable father, 'the vengeance of God will 
surely reach thee ! To-day thou makest me 
bow my head ; but thy bride, if she have some 
honor, will presently flee from thee as from the 
pest, for thou shalt some day hang, accursed of 
God ! ' I rush to the arms of my father-in-law. 
4 Stop, stop ; ' but he, leaning down to my ear, 
said : * Without knowing the vine or measuring 
the furrows, thou hast bought the wine, mad 
girl ! Go, thou didst not weep all thy tears in 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 143 

thy swaddling clothes ! Knowest thou whom 
thou hast ? a robber-chief ! ' " 

And the scene continues, weirdly dramatic, 
like some old romantic tale of feudal days. 
Such scenes of gloom and terror are not fre- 
quent in Mistral. This one is probably the 
best of its kind he has attempted. 

On his way to seek Count Severan in his 
fastness, Calendau " enters, awestruck, into the 
stupendous valley, deep, frowning, cold, satur- 
nine, and fierce ; the daylight darts into this 
enclosure an instant upon the viper and the 
lizard, then, behind the jagged peaks, it van- 
ishes. The Esteron rolls below. Now, Calen- 
dau feels a shudder in his soul, and winds his 
horn. The call resounds in the depths of the 
gorges. It seems as though he calls to his aid 
the spirits of the place. And he thinks of the 
paladin dying at Roncevaux." 

For the sake of greater completeness, we 
summarize briefly the exploits of the hero. As 
has been stated, they compose the great body of 
the poem, and are narrated by him to the Count 
and his company of thieves and women. The 
narrative begins with the account of the little 
port of Cassis, his native place; and one of 



144 FE^D^RIC MISTRAL 

the stanzas is a setting for the surprising prov- 
erb: — 

" Tau qu'a vist Paris, 
Se noun a vist Cassis, 
Pou dire : N'ai ren vist ! " 

He who has seen Paris, and has not seen Cassis, may 
say, " I have seen nothing." 

No less than forty stanzas are taken up with 
the wonders of Cassis, and more than half of 
those are devoted to naming the fish the Cas- 
sidians catch. It is to be feared that other 
than Provengal readers and students of natural 
history will fail to share the enthusiasm of the 
poet here. Calendau's father used to read out 
of an ancient book ; and the hero recounts the 
history of Provence, going back to the times of 
the Ligurians, telling us of the coming of the 
Greeks, who brought the art of sculpture for 
the future Puget. We hear of the founding 
of Marseilles, the days of Diana and Apollo, 
followed by the coming of the Romans. The 
victory of Caius Marius is celebrated, the con- 
quest of Julius Caesar deplored. We learn of 
the introduction of Christianity. We come 
down to the glorious days of Raymond of 
Toulouse. 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 145 

" And enraptured to be free, young, robust, 
happy in the joy of living, in those days a 
whole people was seen at the feet of Beauty ; 
and singing blame or praises a hundred Trou- 
badours flourished; and from its cradle, amid 
vicissitudes, Europe smiled upon our merry 
singing." 

" O flowers, ye came too soon ! Nation in 
bloom, the sword cut down thy blossoming ! 
Bright sun of the south, thou shonest too 
powerfully, and the thunder-storms gathered. 
Dethroned, made barefoot, and gagged, the 
ProveiiQal language, proud, however, as before, 
went off to live among the shepherds and the 
sailors." 

"Language of love, if there are fools and 
bastards, ah! by Saint Cyr, thou shalt have 
the men of the land upon thy side, and as long 
as the fierce mistral shall roar in the rocks, sen- 
sitive to an insult offered thee, we shall defend 
thee with red cannon-balls, for thou art the 
fatherland, and thou art freedom ! " 

This love of the language itself pervades 
all the work of our poet, but rarely has he 
expressed it more energetically, not to say 
violently, than here. 



146 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

Calendau reaches the point where he first 
catches a glimpse of the Princess. He tells of 
the legends concerning the fairy Esterello, and 
of the Fada (Les Enfees). This last is a name 
given to idiots or to the insane, who are sup- 
posed to have come under her spell. 

" E degun auso 
Se truf a d'eli, car an quicon de sacra ! " 

And none dares mock them, for they have in them 
something sacred. 

The fisherman makes many attempts to find 
her again, and at last succeeds. She haughtily 
dismisses his suit. 

"Vai, noun sies proun famous, ni proun fort, ni proun 
fin." 

Go, thou art not famous enough, nor strong enough, 
nor fine enough. 

He realizes her great superiority, and, after 
a time of deep discouragement, rouses himself 
and sets about to deserve and win her by deeds 
of daring, by making a great name for himself. 

His first idea is to seek wealth, so he 
builds a great boat and captures twelve hun- 
dred tunny fish. The fishing scenes are de- 
picted with all the glow of fancy and brilliant 



THE POUR LONGER POEMS 147 

word-painting for which Mistral is so remark- 
able. Calendau is now rich, and brings jewels 
to his lady. She haughtily refuses them, and 
the fisherman throws them away. 

" — Eh! ben, ie fau, d'abord, ingrato, 

Que toun cor dur an sin me trato 

E que de mi present noun t'enchau mai qu' aco, 

V agon au Diable ! — E li bandisse 

Pataflou ! dins lou precepice." . . . 

"Well," said I to her, "since, ungrateful woman, thy 
hard heart treats me thus, and thou carest no more about 
my presents than that, let them go to the devil ! " and I 
hurled them, pataflou, into the precipice. . . . 

Here the tone is not one that an English 
reader finds serious ; the sending the jewels to 
the Devil, in the presence of the beautiful lady, 
and the interjection, seem trivial. Evidently 
they are not so, for the Princess is mollified at 
once. 

" He was not very astute, he who made thee 
believe that the love of a proud soul can be won 
with a few trinkets ! Ah, where are the hand- 
some Troubadours, masters of love ?" 

She tells the love-stories of Geoffroy Rudel, 
of Ganbert de Puy-Abot, of Foulquet of Mar- 
seilles, of Guillaume de Balaiin, of Guillaume 



148 FR&D&RIC MISTRAL 

de la Tour, and her words fall upon Calendau's 
heart like a flame. He catches a glimpse of an 
existence of constant ecstasy. 

His second exploit is a tournament on the 
water, where the combatants stand on boats, 
and are rowed violently against one another, 
each striking his lance against the wooden 
breastplate of his adversary. His victory wins 
for him the hatred of the Cassidians, for his 
enemy accuses him of cornering the fish. Es- 
terello consoles him with more stories from the 
Chansons de geste and the songs of the Trou- 
badours. 

In the seventh canto is described in magnifi- 
cent language Calendau's exploit on the Mont 
Ventoux. This is a remarkable mountain, visi- 
ble all over the southern portion of the Rhone 
valley, standing in solitary grandeur, like a 
great pyramid dominating the plain. Its sum- 
mit is exceedingly difficult of access. It ap- 
pears to be the first mountain that literature 
records as having been ascended for pleasure. 
This ascent is the subject of one of Petrarch's 
letters. 

During nine days Calendau felled the larches 
that grew upon the flanks of the mighty moun- 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 149 

tain, and hurled the forest piecemeal into the 
torrent below. At the Rocher du Cire he is 
frightfully stung by myriads of bees, during 
his attempt to obtain as a trophy for his lady a 
quantity of honey from this well-nigh inacces- 
sible place. The kind of criticism that is 
appropriate for realistic literature is here quite 
out of place. It must be said, however, that 
the episode is far from convincing. Calendau 
compares his sufferings to those of a soul in 
hell, condemned to the cauldron of oil. Yet he 
makes a safe escape, and we never hear of the 
physical consequences of his terrible punish- 
ment. 

The canto, in its vivid language, its move- 
ment, its life, is one of the most astonishing 
that has come from the pen of its author. It 
offers beautiful examples of his inspiration in 
depicting the lovely aspects of nature. He 
finds words of liquid sweetness to describe the 
music of the morning breezes breathing through 
the mass of trees : — 

" La Ventoureso matiniero, 
En trespirant dins la sourniero 
Dis aubre, fernissie coume un pur cantadis, 
Ounte di colo e di vallado, 



150 fr£d£ric mistral 

Tduti li voues en assemblado, 
Mandavon sa boufaroulado. 
Li mele tranquilas, li mele mescladis," etc. 

The morning breeze of the Mont Ventoux, breathing 
into the mass of trees, quivered like a pure symphony of 
song wherein all the voices of hill and dale sent their 
breathings. 

In the last line the word tranquilas is meant 
to convey the idea "in tranquil grandeur." 

This ruthless destruction of the forest brings 
down upon Calendau the anger of his lady ; he 
has dishonored the noble mountain. "Sacri- 
legious generation, ye have the harvest of the 
plains, the chestnut and the olives of the hill- 
sides, but the beetling brows of the mountains 
belong to God I" and the lady continues an 
eloquent defence of the trees, "the beloved 
sons, the inseparable nurslings, the joy, the 
colossal glory of the universal nurse ! " and 
pictures the vengeance Nature wreaks when she 
is wronged. Calendau is humbled and departs. 

His next exploit is the settling of the feud 
between two orders of Masons. He displays 
marvellous bravery in facing the fighting 
crowds, and they choose him to be umpire. He 
delivers a noble speech in favor of peace, full 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 151 

of allusions to the architectural glories of 
Provence, that grew up when " faith and union 
lent their torch." He tells the story of the 
building of the bridge of Avignon. "Noah 
himself with his ark could have passed beneath 
each of its arches." He touches their emotions 
with his appeal for peace, and they depart 
reconciled. 

And now Esterello begins to love him. She 
bids him strive for the noblest things, to love 
country and humanity, to become a knight, an 
apostle ; and after Calendau has performed the 
feat of capturing the famous brigand Marco- 
Mau, after he has been crowned in the feasts 
at Aix, and resisted victorious the wiles of the 
women that surround the Count Severan, and 
saved his lady in the fearful combat on the fire- 
surrounded rock, he wins her. 

III. Nerto 

In spite of its utter unreality Nerto is a charm- 
ing tale, written in a sprightly vein, with here and 
there a serious touch, reminding the reader fre- 
quently of Ariosto. The Devil, the Saints, and 
the Angels figure in it prominently ; but the 
Devil is not a very terrible personage in Provence, 



152 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

and the Angels are entirely lacking in Miltonic 
grandeur. The scene of the story is laid in 
the time of Benedict XIII, who was elected 
Pope at Avignon in 1394. The story offers 
a lively picture of the papal court, remind- 
ing the reader forcibly of the description 
found in Daudet's famous tale of the Pope's 
mule. It is filled throughout with legends 
relating to the Devil, and with superstitious 
beliefs of the Middle Age. It is not always 
easy to determine when the poet is serious in 
his statement of religious belief, occasionally he 
appears to be so, and then a line or so shows us 
that he has a legend in mind. In the prologue 
of the poem he says : — 

" Creire, coundus a la vitori. 
Douta, vaqui Y endourmitori 
E la pouisoun dins lou barrieu 
E la lachuslo dins lou rieu." 

To believe leads to victory. Doubt is the narcotic, 
and the poison in the barrel, and the euphorbia in the 
stream. 

" E, quand lou pople a perdu fe, 
L'infer abrivo si boufet." 

And when the people have lost faith, 
Hell sets its bellows blowing. 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 153 

Then later we read : " What is this world ? 
A wager between Christ and the Demon. 
Thousands of years ago he challenged God, 
and when the great game began, they played 
with great loose rocks from the hills, at quoits, 
and if any one is unwilling to believe this, let 
him go to Mount Leberon and see the stone 
thrown by Satan." 

So we see that the theology was merely a 
means of leading up to a local legend. 

The story is briefly as follows : Nerto, like 
all Mistral's heroines, is exceedingly young, 
thirteen years of age. Her father, the Baron 
Pons, had gambled away everything he owned 
in this world, when she was a very little child, 
and while walking along a lonely road one 
night he met the Devil, who took advantage of 
his despair to tempt him with the sight of 
heaps of money. The wretched father sold his 
daughter's soul to the Evil One. Now on his 
death-bed he tells his child the fearful tale ; one 
means of salvation lies open for her — she must 
go to the Pope. Benedict XIII is besieged in 
the great palace at Avignon, but the Baron 
knows of a secret passage from his castle lead- 
ing under the river Durance to one of the 



154 FR£D:ERIC MISTRAL 

towers of the papal residence. He bids Nerto 
go to seek deliverance from the bond, and to 
make known to the Pope the means of escape. 
Nerto reaches the palace at the moment when all 
is in great commotion, for the enemy have suc- 
ceeded in setting it on fire. She is first seen 
by the Pope's nephew Don Rodrigue, an exceed- 
ingly wicked young man, a sort of brawling Don 
Juan, who seems to have been guilty of numer- 
ous assassinations. He immediately begins to 
talk love to the maiden, as the means of saving 
her from the Devil, " the path of love is full of 
flowers and leads to Paradise. But Nerto has 
been taught that the road to Heaven is full of 
stones and thorns, and her innocence saves her 
from the passionate outburst of the licentious 
youth. And Nerto is taken to the Pope, whom 
she finds sadly enthroned in all his splendor, 
and brings him the news of a means of escape. 
The last Pope of Avignon bearing the sacred 
elements, pourtant soun Dieu, follows the 
maiden through the underground passage, and 
escapes with all his followers. At Chateau- 
Ren ard he sets up his court with the King of 
Forcalquier, Naples, and Jerusalem and Donna 
Iolanthe his Queen. Nerto asks the Pope to 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 155 

save her soul, but he is powerless. Only a mir- 
acle can save a soul sold to Satan. She must 
enter a convent, and pray to the Saints continu- 
ally. The Court is about to move to Aries, she 
shall enter the convent there. On the way, 
Don Rodrigue makes love to her assiduously, 
but the young girl's heart seems untroubled. 

At Aries we witness a great combat of 
animals, in which the lion of Aries, along with 
four bulls, is turned loose in the arena. The 
lion kills all but one of the bulls. The fourth 
beast, enraged, gores the lion. The royal 
brute rushes among the spectators and makes 
for the King's throne. Nerto and the Queen are 
crouching in terror before him, when Don Rod- 
rigue slays the animal, saving Nerto's life. Nay, 
he saves more than her life, for had she died 
then she would have been a prey to the flames 
of Hell. 

Nerto becomes a nun, but Don Rodrigue, 
with a band of ribald followers, succeeds in 
carrying her off with all the other nuns. They 
are all driven by the King's soldiers into the 
cemetery of the Aliscamps. Nerto wanders away 
during the battle and is lost among the tombs. 
At dawn the next day she strays far out to a 



156 FR&D&RIC MISTRAL 

forest, where she finds a hermit. The old man 
welcomes her, and believes he can save her soul. 
The Angel Gabriel visits him frequently, and 
he will speak to him. But the Angel disap- 
proves, condemns the pride of the anchorite, and 
soars away to the stars without a word of hope 
or consolation, and so in great anxiety the pious 
man bids her go back to the convent, and 
prays Saint Gabriel, Saint Consortia, Saint 
Tullia, Saint Gent, Saint Verd&me, Saint Julien, 
Saint Trophime, Saint Formin, and Saint Ste- 
phen to accompany her. 

Don Rodrigue is living in a palace built for 
him in one night by the Devil, wherein are seven 
halls, each devoted to one of the seven mortal 
sins. Hither Nerto wanders; here Rodrigue 
finds her, and begins his passionate love-making 
afresh. But Nerto remains true to her vows, 
although the germ of love has been in her heart 
since the day Rodrigue saved her from the lion. 
On learning that she is in the Devil's castle, 
she is filled with terror, believing the fatal day 
has arrived. She confesses her love. The 
maiden cries: "Woe is me, Nerto loves you, 
but if Hell should swallow us up, would there 
be any love for the damned? Rodrigue, no, 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 157 

there is none. If you would but break the 
tie that binds you, if, with one happy wing- 
stroke, you could soar up to the summits 
where lives last forever, where hearts vanish 
united in the bosom of God, I should be de- 
livered, it seems to me, in the same upward 
impulse; for, in heaven or in the abyss, I 
am inseparable from you." Rodrigue replies 
sadly, that his past is too dreadful, that only 
the ocean could wipe it out. " Rodrigue, one 
burst of repentance is worth a long penance. 
Courage, come, only one look toward Heaven ! " 
The Devil appears. He swells with pride in 
this, his finest triumph; black souls he has 
in plenty, but since the beginning of his reign 
over the lower regions he has never captured 
an immaculate victim like this soul. Rodrigue 
inverts his sword, and at the sign of the cross, 
a terrific hurricane sweeps away the palace, 
Don Rodrigue, and the Devil, and nothing is 
left but a nun of stone who is still visible in 
the midst of a field on the site of the chateau. 
In an Epilogue we learn from the Archangel 
who visits the hermit that the knight and the 
maiden were both saved. 

It is difficult to characterize the curious com- 



158 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

bination of levity and seriousness that runs 
through this tale. There is no illusion of 
reality anywhere ; there is no agony of soul 
in Baron Pon's confession ; Nerto's terror when 
she learns that she is the property of the Devil 
is far from impressive, because she says too 
much, with expressions that are too pretty, 
perhaps because the rippling octosyllabic verse, 
in Provengal at least, cannot be serious ; it is 
hardly worth while to mention the objection 
that if the Devil can be worsted at any time 
merely by inverting a sword, especially when 
the sword is that of an assassin and a rake, 
whose repentance is scarcely touched upon and 
is by no means disinterested, it is clear that the 
Demon has wasted his time at a very foolish 
game ; a religious mind might feel a deeper 
sort of reverence for the Archangels than is 
evinced here. Yet it cannot be said that the 
poem parodies things sacred and sublime, and 
it appears to be utterly without philosophical 
intention. Mistral really has to a surprising 
degree the naivete of writers of former cen- 
turies, and as regards the tale itself and its gen- 
eral treatment it could almost have been written 
by a contemporary of the events it relates. 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 159 
IV. LOU POUEMO DOU ROSE 

The Poem of the Rhone, the third of the 
poems in twelve cantos that Mistral has written, 
appeared in 1897. It completes the symmetry 
of his life work ; the former epics extolled the 
life of the fields, the mountains, and the sea, the 
last glorifies the beautiful river that brings 
life to his native soil. More than either of 
the other long poems, it is an act of affection 
for the past, for the Rhone of the poem is the 
Rhone of his early childhood, before the steam- 
packets churned its waters, or the railroads 
poured up their smoke along its banks. Al- 
though the poet has interwoven in it a tale of 
merest fancy, it is essentially realistic, differing 
notably in this respect from Calendau. This 
realism descends to the merest details, and the 
poetic quality of the work suffers considerably 
in many passages. The poet does not shrink 
from minute enumeration of cargoes, or tech- 
nical description of boats, or word-for-word 
reproduction of the idle talk of boatwomen, or 
the apparently inexhaustible profanity of the 
boatmen. The life on the river is vividly por- 
trayed, and we put down the book with a sense 



160 fr£d£ric mistral 

of really having made the journey from Lyons 
to Beaucaire with the fleet of seven boats of 
Master Apian. 

On opening the volume the reader is struck 
first of all with the novel versification. It 
is blank verse, the line being precisely that 
of Dante's Divina Commedia. Not only is 
there no rhyme, but assonance is very care- 
fully avoided. The effect of this unbroken 
succession of feminine verses is slightly monot- 
onous, though the poet shifts his pauses skil- 
fully. The rhythm of the lines is marked, the 
effect upon the ear being quite like that of Eng- 
lish iambic pentameters hypercatalectic. The 
absence of rhyme is the more noteworthy in 
that rhyme offers little difficulty in Provencal. 
Doubtless the poet was pleased to show an ad- 
ditional claim to superiority for his speech over 
the French as a vehicle for poetic thought ; for 
while on the one hand the rules of rhyme and 
hiatus give the poet writing in Provengal less 
trouble than when writing in French, on the 
other hand this poem proves that splendid 
blank verse may be written in the new 
language. 

The plan of the poem is briefly as follows: 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 161 

it describes the departure of a fleet of boats 
from Lyons, accompanies them down the river 
to Beaucaire, describes the fair and the return 
up the river, the boats being hauled by eighty 
horses ; narrates the collision with a steamboat 
coming down the stream, which drags the ani- 
mals into the water, setting the boats adrift in 
the current, destroying them and their cargo, 
and typifying as it were the ruin of the old 
traffic on the Rhone. The river itself is de- 
scribed, its dangerous shoals, its beautiful 
banks, its towns and castles. We learn how 
the boats were manoeuvred ; the life on board 
and the ideas of the men are set before us 
minutely. Legends and stories concerning the 
river and the places along the shores abound, 
of course ; and into this general background is 
woven the tale of a Prince of Orange and a 
little maiden called the Anglore, two of the 
curiously half-real, half-unreal beings that 
Mistral seems to love to create. The Prince 
comes on board the fleet, intending to see 
Orange and Provence ; some day he is to be 
King of Holland, but has already sickened of 
court ceremonies and intrigues. 

"Uno foulie d'amour s'es mes en testo." 



162 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

This dreamy, imaginative, blond Prince is in 
search of a Naiade and the mysterious "swan- 
flower," wherein the fair nymph is hidden. 
This flower he wears as an emblem. When 
the boatmen see it, they recognize it as the 
fleur de Rhdne that the Anglore is so fond 
of culling. The men get Jean Roche, one of 
their number, to tell the Prince who this mys- 
terious Anglore is, and we learn that she is a 
little, laughing maiden, who wanders barefoot 
on the sand, so charming that any of the sailors, 
were she to make a sign, would spring into the 
water to go and print a kiss upon her little 
foot. Not only is the Prince in search of a 
nymph and a flower, not only does he wish to 
behold Orange, he wishes also to learn the lan- 
guage in which the Countess of Die sang lays 
of love with Raimbaud of Orange. He is full 
of thoughts of the olden days, he feels regret 
for the lost conquests. "But why should he 
feel regret, if he may recover the sunny land of 
his forefathers by drinking it in with eager 
eyes ! What need is there of gleaming swords 
to seize what the eye shows us?" He cares 
little for royalty. 

" Strongholds crumble away, as may be seen 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 163 

on all these hills ; everything falls to ruin and 
is renewed. But on thy summits, unchanging 
Nature, forever the thyme shall bloom, and the 
shepherds and shepherdesses frolic on the grass 
at the return of spring." 

The Prince apostrophizes the " empire of the 
sun," bordering like a silver hem the dazzling 
Rhone, the "poetic empire of Provence, that 
with its name alone doth charm the world," and 
he calls to mind the empire of the Bosonides, 
the memory of which survives in the speech of 
the boatmen; they call the east shore " em- 
pire," the west shore "kingdom." 

The journey is full of episodes. The owner 
of the fleet, Apian, is a sententious individual. 
He is devoted to his river life, full of religious 
fervor, continually crossing himself or praying 
to Saint Nicholas, the patron saint of sailors. 
This faith, however, is not entire. If a man 
falls into the water, the fellows call to him, 
" Recommend thyself to Saint Nicholas, but swim 
for dear life." As the English expression has 
it, "Trust to God, but keep your powder dry." 
Master Apian always says the Lord's Prayer 
aloud when he puts off from shore, and sol- 
emnly utters the words, " In the name of God 



164 FREDERIC MISTRAL 

and the Holy Virgin, to the Rhone ! " His 
piety, however, does not prevent him from in- 
terrupting his prayer to swear at the men most 
vigorously. Says he, u Let whoever would 
learn to pray, follow the water," but his argu- 
ments and experiences rather teach the vanity 
of prayer. He is full of superstitious tales. 
He has views of life. 

" Life is a journey like that of the bark. It 
has its bad, its good days. The wise man, when 
the waves smile, ought to know how to behave ; 
in the breakers he must go slow. But man is 
born for toil, for navigation. He who rows gets 
his pay at the end of the month. He who is 
afraid of blistering his hands takes a dive into 
the abyss of poverty." He tells a story of 
Napoleon in flight down the Rhone, of the 
women who cried out at him, reviling him, 
bidding him give back their sons, shaking their 
fists and crying out, "Into the Rhone with 
him." Once when he was changing horses at 
an inn, a woman, bleeding a fowl at the door, 
exclaimed : "Ha, the cursed monster ! If I had 
him here, I'd plant my knife into his throat like 
that ! " The emperor, unknown to her, draws 
near. "What did he do to you? " said he. "I 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 165 

had two sons," replied the bereaved mother 
wrathfully, "two handsome boys, tall as towers. 
He killed them for me in his battles." — "Their 
names will not perish in the stars," said Napo- 
leon sadly. "Why could I not fall like them? 
for they died for their country on the field of 
glory." — "But who are you?" — "I am the 
emperor." — "Ah!" The good woman fell 
upon her knees dismayed, kissed his hands, 
begged his forgiveness, and all in tears — 
Here the story is interrupted. 

Wholly charming and altogether original is 
the tale of the little maiden whom the boatmen 
name L'Anglore, and whom Jean Roche loves. 
The men have named her so for fun. They 
knew her well, having seen her from earliest 
childhood, half naked, paddling in the water 
along the shore, sunning herself like the little 
lizard they call anglore. Now she had grown, 
and eked out a poor living by seeking for gold 
in the sands brought down by the Ardeche. 

The little maid believed in the story of the 
Drac, a sort of merman, that lived in the Rhone, 
and had power to fascinate the women who ven- 
tured into the water. There was once a very 
widespread superstition concerning this Protean 



166 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

creature ; and the women washing in the river 
often had a figure of the Drac, in the form of a 
lizard, carved upon the piece of wood with which 
they beat the linen, as a sort of talisman against 
his seduction. The mother of the Anglore had 
told her of his wiles ; and one story impressed 
her above all — the story of the young woman 
who, fascinated by the Drac, lost her footing in 
the water and was carried whirling down into 
the depths. At the end of seven years she re- 
turned and told her tale. She had been seized 
by the Drac, and for seven years he kept her to 
nurse his little Drac. 

The Anglore was never afraid while seeking 
the specks of gold in the sunlight. But at 
night it was different. A gem of poetry is the 
scene in the sixth canto, full of witchery and 
charm, wherein the imagination of the little 
maid, wandering out along the water in the 
mysterious moonlight, causes her to fancy she 
sees the Drac in the form of a fair youth smiling 
upon her, offering her a wild flower, uttering 
sweet, mysterious words of love that die away 
in the water. She often came again to meet 
him ; and she noticed that if ever she crossed 
herself on entering the water, as she had always 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 167 

done when a little girl, the Drac would not 
appear. These three or four pages mark the 
genuine poet and the master of language. The 
mysterious night, oppressively warm, the moon- 
light shining on the little white figure, the deep 
silence, broken only by the faint murmur of the 
river and the distant singing of a nightingale, 
the gleam of the glowworms, compose a scene of 
fantastic beauty. The slightest sounds startle 
her, whether it be a fish leaping at the surface 
of the water to seize a fly, the gurgling of a 
little eddy, or the shrill cry of a bat. There is 
a certain voluptuous beauty in the very sound 
of the words that describe the little nymph, 
kissed by the moonbeams : — 

" alusentido 
Per li rai de la luno que beisavon 
Soun fin coutet, sa jouino car ambrenco, 
Si bras poupin, sis esquino rabloto 
E si pousseto armouniouso e fermo 
Que s'amagavon coume dos tourtouro 
Dins l'esparpai de sa cabeladuro." 

The last three lines fall like a caress upon the 
ear. Mistral often attains a perfect melody of 
words with the harmonious succession of varied 
vowel sounds and the well-marked cadence of 
his verse. 



168 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

When Apian's fleet comes down the river and 
passes the spot where the little maid seeks for 
gold, the men see her and invite her on board. 
She will go down to Beaucaire to sell her find- 
ings. Jean Roche offers himself in marriage, 
but she will have none of him; she loves the 
vision seen beneath the waves. When the 
Anglore spies the blond-haired Prince, she 
turns pale and nearly swoons. "'Tis he, 'tis 
he ! " she cries, and she stands fascinated. 
William, charmed with the little maid, says 
to her, "I recognize thee, O Rhone flower, 
blooming on the water — flower of good omen 
that I saw in a dream." The little maid calls 
him Drac, identifies the flower in his hand, and 
lives on in this hallucination. The boatmen 
consider that she has lost her reason, and say 
she must have drunk of the fountain of Tourne. 
The little maid hears them, and bids them speak 
low, for their fate is written at the fountain of 
Tourne ; and like a Sibyl, raising her bare arm, 
she describes the mysterious carvings on the 
rock, and the explanation given by a witch she 
knew. These carvings, according to Mistral's 
note, were dedicated to the god Mithra. The 
meaning given by the witch is that the day the 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 169 

Drac shall leave the river Rhone forever, that 
day the boatmen shall perish. The men do not 
laugh, for they have already heard of the great 
boats that can make their way against the cur- 
rent without horses. Apian breaks out into 
furious imprecations against the men who would 
ruin the thousands that depend for their living 
upon the river. One is struck by this intro- 
duction of a question of political economy into 
a poem. 

During the journey to Avignon the Prince 
falls more and more in love with the little 
Anglore, whom no sort of evidence can shake 
out of her belief that the Prince is the Drac, for 
the Drac can assume any form at pleasure. Her 
delusion is so complete, so naive, that the prince, 
romantic by nature, is entirely under the spell. 

There come on board three Venetian women, 
who possess the secret of a treasure, twelve 
golden statues of the Apostles buried at Avi- 
gnon. The Prince leaves the boat to help them 
find the place, and the little maid suffers in- 
tensely the pangs of jealousy. But he comes 
back to her, and takes her all about the great 
fair at Beaucaire. That night, however, he 
wanders out alone, and while calling to mind 



170 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

the story of Aucassin and Nicolette, he is sand- 
bagged, but not killed. The Anglore believes 
he has left his human body on the ground so as 
to visit his caverns beneath the Rhone. William 
seems unhurt, and at the last dinner before they 
start to go up the river again, surrounded by the 
crew, he makes them a truly Felibrean speech: — 

" Do you know, friends, to whom I feel like 
consecrating our last meal in Beaucaire ? To 
the patriots of the Rhodanian shores, to the 
dauntless men who, in olden days, maintained 
themselves in the strong castle that stands be- 
fore our eyes, to the dwellers along the river* 
banks who defended so valiantly their customs, 
their free trade, and their great free Rhone. Ii 
the sons of those forefathers who fell bravely 
in the strife, to-day have forgotten their glory, 
well, so much the worse for the sons ! But 
you, my mates, you who have preserved the call, 
Empire ! and who, like the brave men you are, 
will soon go and defend the Rhone in its very 
life, fighting your last battle with me, a stranger, 
but enraptured and intoxicated with the light 
of your Rhone, come, raise your glasses to the 
cause of the vanquished ! " 

The love scenes between the Prince and the 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 171 

Anglore continue during the journey up the 
river. Her devotion to him is complete ; she 
knows not whither she goes, if to perish, then 
let it be with him. In a moment of enthusiasm 
William makes a passionate declaration. 

"Trust me, Anglore, since I have freely 
chosen thee, since thou hast brought me thy 
deep faith in the beautiful wonders of the fable, 
since thou art she who, without thought, yields 
to her love, as wax melts in the sun, since thou 
livest free of all our bonds and shams, since in 
thy blood, in thy pure bosom, lies the renewal 
of the old sap, I, on my faith as a Prince, I 
swear to thee that none but me, O my Rhone 
flower, shall have the happiness to pluck thee 
as a flower of love and as a wife ! " 

But this promise is never kept. One day the 
boats meet the steamer coming down the river. 
Apian, pale and silent, watches the magic bark 
whose wheels beat like great paws, and, raising 
great waves, come down steadily upon him. 

The captain cries, " One side ! " but, obsti- 
nate and angry, Apian tries to force the steamer 
to give way. The result is disastrous. The 
steamer catches in the towing cables and drags 
the horses into the water. The boats drift 



172 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

back and are hurled against a bridge. Will- 
iam and the Anglore are thrown into the river 
and are lost. All the others escape with their 
lives. Jean Roche is not sure but that he 
was the Drac after all, who, foreseeing the 
shipwreck, had thus followed the boats, to carry 
the Anglore at last down into the depths of the 
river. Maitre Apian accepts his ruin philo- 
sophically. Addressing his men, he says : " Ah, 
my seven boats ! my splendid draught horses ! 
All gone, all ruined ! It is the end of the busi- 
ness ! Poor fellow-boatmen, you may well say, 
c good-by to a pleasant life.' To-day the great 
Rhone has died, as far as we are concerned." 

The idea of the poem is, then, to tell of the 
old life on the Rhone. To-day the river flows 
almost as in the days when its shores were un- 
trod by men. Rarely is any sort of boat seen 
upon its swift and dangerous current. Mistral 
portrays the life he knew, and he has done it 
with great power and vividness. The fanciful 
tale of the Prince and the Anglore, suggested 
by the beliefs and superstitions of the humble 
folk, was introduced, doubtless, as a necessary 
love story. The little maid Anglore, half mad 
in her illusion, is none the less a very sympa- 



THE FOUR LONGEE POEMS 173 

thetic creation, and surely quite original. This 
tale, however, running through the poem like a 
thread, is not the poem, nor does it fill propor- 
tionately a large place therein. The poem is, 
as its title proclaims, the Poem of the Rhone, a 
poem of sincere regret for the good old days 
when the muscular sons of Condrieu ruled the 
stream, the days of jollity, of the curious boat- 
ing tournaments of which one is described in 
Calendau, when the children used to watch the 
boats go by with a Condrillot at the helm, and 
the Rhone was swarming like a mighty beehive. 
The poet notes in sorrow that all is dead. The 
river flows on, broad and silent, and no vestige 
of all its past activity remains, but here and 
there a trace of the cables that used to rub along 
the stones. 

As we said at the outset, what is most strik- 
ing about this poem is its realism. The poet 
revels in enumerating the good things the men 
had to eat at the feast of Saint Nicholas ; he de- 
scribes with a wealth of vocabulary and a flood 
of technical terms quite bewildering every sort 
of boat, and all its parts with their uses ; he re- 
produces the talk of the boatmen, leaving un- 
varnished their ignorance and superstition, their 



174 FRtiDftRIC MISTRAL 

roughness and brutality ; he describes their ap- 
pearance, their long hair and large earrings ; he 
explains the manner of guiding the boats down 
the swirling, treacherous waters, amid the dan- 
gers of shoals and hidden rocks ; he describes all 
the cargoes, not finding it beneath the dignity 
of an epic poem to tell us of the kegs of foamy 
beer that is destined for the thirsty throats of 
the drinkers at Beaucaire ; as the boats pass 
Condrieu, he reproduces the gossip of the boat- 
men's wives ; he does not omit the explanations 
of Apian addressed to the Prince concerning 
fogs and currents ; he is often humorous, telling 
us of the heavy merchants who promenade 
their paunches whereon the watch-charms rattle 
against their snug little money carried in a belt ; 
he describes the passengers, tells us their various 
trades and destinations, is even cynical ; tells of 
the bourgeois, who, once away from their wives, 
grow suddenly lavish with their money, and 
like pigs let loose in the street, take up the 
whole roadway ; he does not shrink from letting 
us know that the men chew a cud of tobacco 
while they talk; he mentions the price of 
goods ; he puts into the mouth of Jean Roche's 
mother a great many practical and material 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 175 

considerations as to the matter of taking a wife, 
and a very wise and practical old lady she is ; he 
treats as " joyeusetes " the conversation of the 
Venetian women who inform the Prince that 
in their city the noblewoman, once married, 
may have quite a number of lovers without ex- 
citing any comment, the husband being rather 
relieved than otherwise; he allows his boatmen 
to swear and call one another vile names, and a 
howling, brawling lot they frequently become ; 
and when at last we get to the fair at Beaucaire, 
there are pages of minute enumerations that can 
scarcely be called Homeric. In short, a very 
large part of the book is prose, animated, vig- 
orous, often exaggerated, but prose. Like his 
other long poems it is singularly objective. 
Rarely does the author interrupt his narrative 
or description to give an opinion, to speak in 
his own name, or to analyze the situation he 
has created. Like the other poems, too, it is 
sprinkled with tales and legends of all sorts, 
some of them charming. Superstitions abound. 
Mistral shares the fondness of the Avignonnais 
for the number seven. Apian has seven boats, 
the Drac keeps his victim seven years, the 
woman of Condrieu has seven sons. 



176 FR&D&RIC MISTRAL 

The poem offers the same beauties as the 
others, an astonishing power of description first 
of all. Mistral is always masterly, always 
poetic in depicting the landscape and the life 
that moves thereon, and especially in evoking 
the life of the past. He revives for us the 
princesses and queens, the knights and trouba- 
dours, and they move before us, a fascinating, 
glittering pageant. The perfume of flowers, 
the sunlight on the water, the great birds flying 
in the air, the silent drifting of the boats in the 
broad valley, the reflection of the tall poplars in 
the water, the old ruins that crown the hilltops 
— all these things are exquisitely woven into 
the verse, and more than a mere word-painting 
they create a mood in the reader in unison 
with the mood of the person of whom he is 
reading. 

In touching truly deep and serious things 
Mistral is often superficial, and passes them off 
with a commonplace. An instance in this poem 
is the episode of the convicts on their way to 
the galleys at Toulon. No terrible indignation, 
no heartfelt pity, is expressed. Apian silences 
one of his crew who attempts to mock at the 
unhappy wretches. " They are miserable enough 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 177 

without an insult! and do not seem to recog- 
nize them, for, branded on the shoulder, they 
seek the shade. Let this be an example to you 
all. They are going to eat beans at Toulon, 
poor fellows! All sorts of men are there, — 
churchmen, rascals, nobles, notaries, even some 
who are innocent! " 

And the poet concludes, "Thus the world, 
thus the agitation, the stir of life, good, evil, 
pleasure, pain, pass along swiftly, confusedly, 
between day and night, on the river of time, 
rolling along and fleeing." 

The enthusiasm of the poet leads him into 
exaggeration whenever he comes to a wonder 
of Provence. Things are relative in this world, 
and the same words carry different meanings. 
Avignon is scarcely a colossal pile of towers, 
and would not remind many of Venice, even at 
sunset, and we must make a discount when we 
hear that the boats are engulfed in the fierce 
(sic) arch of the colossal bridge of stone that 
Benezet, the shepherd, erected seven hundred 
years ago. A moment later he refers daintily 
and accurately to the chapel of Saint Nicholas 
"riding on the bridge, slender and pretty." 
The epithets sound larger, too, in Provengal; 



178 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

the view of Avignon is " espetaclouso," the 
walls of the castle are "gigantesco." 

Especially admirable in its sober, energetic 
expression is the account of the Remonte, in 
the eleventh canto, wherein we see the eighty- 
horses, grouped in fours, tug slowly up the 
river. 

"The long file on the rough-paved path, 
dragging the weighty train of boats, in spite 
of the impetuous waters, trudges steadily along. 
And beneath the lofty branches of the great 
white poplars, in the stillness of the Rhone 
valley, in the splendor of the rising sun, walk- 
ing beside the straining horses that drive a 
mist from their nostrils, the first driver says 
the prayer." 

With each succeeding poem the vocabulary 
of Mistral seems to grow, along with the bold- 
ness of expression. All his poems he has 
himself translated into French, and these trans- 
lations are remarkable in more than one respect. 
That of the Poem of the Rhone is especially 
full of rare French words, and it cannot be 
imputed to the leader of the Provencal poets 
that he is not past master of the French vocab- 
ulary. Often his French expression is as 



THE FOUR LONGER POEMS 179 

strange as the original. Not many French 
writers would express themselves as he does in 
the following: — 

" Et il tressaille de jumeler le nonehaloir de 
sa jeunesse au renouveau de la belle ingenue." 

In this translation, also, more than in the 
preceding, there is occasionally an affectation 
of archaism, which rather adds to than detracts 
from the poetic effect of his prose, and the 
number of lines in the prose translation that are 
really ten-syllable verses is quite remarkable. 
On one page (page 183 of the third edition, 
Lemerre) more than half the lines are verses. 

Is the Poem of the Rhone a great poem ? 
Whether it is or not, it accomplishes admirably 
the purpose of its author, to fix in beautiful 
verse the former life of the Rhone. That much 
of it is prosaic was inevitable; the nature of 
the subject rendered it so. It is full of beau- 
ties, and the poet who wrote Mireio and com- 
pleted it before his thirtieth year, has shown 
that in the last decade of his threescore years 
and ten he could produce a work as full of fire, 
energy, life, and enthusiasm as in the stirring 
days when the Felibrige was young. In this 
poem there occurs a passage put into the 



180 FR^DfiRIC MISTRAL 

mouth of the Prince, which gives a view of life 
that we suspect is the poet's own. He here 
calls the Prince a young sage, and as we look 
back over Mistral's life, and review its aims, 
and the conditions in which he has striven, we 
incline to think that here, in a few words, he 
has condensed his thought. 

"For what is life but a dream, a distant 
appearance, an illusion gliding on the water, 
which, fleeing ever before our eyes, dazzles us 
like a mirror flashing, entices and lures us on ! 
Ah, how good it is to sail on ceaselessly toward 
one's desire, even though it is but a dream! 
The time will come, it is near, perhaps, when 
men will have everything within their reach, 
when they will possess everything, when they 
will know and have proved everything; and, 
regretting the old mirages, who knows but what 
they will not grow weary of living ! " 



CHAPTER II 

LIS ISCLO D'OR 

The lover of poetry will probably find more 
to admire and cherish in this volume than in 
any other that has come from the pen of its 
author, excepting, possibly, the best passages 
of Mireio. It is the collection of his short 
poems that appeared from time to time in dif- 
ferent Provengal publications, the earliest dat- 
ing as far back as 1848, the latest written in 
1888. They are a very complete expression of 
his poetic ideas, and contain among their num- 
ber gems of purest poesy. The poet's lyre has 
not many strings, and the strains of sadness, of 
pensive melancholy, are almost absent. Mistral 
has once, and very successfully, tried the theme 
of Lamartine's Lac, of Musset's Souvenir, of 
Hugo's Tristesse cT Olympio ; but his poem is not 
an elegy, it has not the intensity, the passion, 
the deep undertone of any of the three great 
Romanticists. La Fin d6u MeissouniS is a 

181 



182 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

beautiful, pathetic, and touching tale, that easily 
brings a tear, and Lou Saume de la Penitdnci is 
without doubt one of the noblest poems inspired 
in the heart of any Frenchman by the disaster 
of 1870. But these poems, though among the 
best according to the feeling for poetry of a 
reader from northern lands, are not character- 
istic of the volume in general. The dominant 
strain is energy, a clarion-call of life and light, 
an appeal to his fellow-countrymen to be 
strong and independent; the sun of Provence, 
the language of Provence, the ideals of Pro- 
vence, the memories of Provence, these are his 
themes. His poetry is not personal, but social. 
Of his own joys and sorrows scarce a word, 
unless we say what is doubtless the truth, that 
his joys and sorrows, his regrets and hopes, are 
identical with those of his native land, and that 
he has blended his being completely with the 
life about him. The volume contains a great 
number of pieces written for special occasions, 
for the gatherings of the Felibres, for their 
weddings. Many of them are addressed to 
persons in France and out, who have been in 
various ways connected with the Felibrige. 
Of these the greeting to Lamartine is especially 



LIS ISCLO D'OR 183 

felicitous in expression, and the following stanza 
from it forms the dedication of Miriio: — 

" Te counsacre Mireio : eo moun cor e moun amo, 
Es la flour de mis an ; 
Es un rasin de Crau qu' erne touto sa ramo 
Te porge un paisan." 

The entire poem, literally translated, is as 
follows : — 

If I have the good fortune to see my bark early upon 
the waves, 

Without fear of winter, 
Blessings upon thee, O divine Lamartine, 

Who hast taken the helm ! 

If my prow bears a bouquet of blooming laurel, 

It is thou hast made it for me ; 
If my sail swelleth, it is the breath of thy glory 

That bloweth it. 

Therefore, like a pilot who of a fair church 

Climbeth the hill 
And upon the altar of the saint that hath saved him 
at sea 

Hangeth a miniature ship. 

I consecrate Mireio to thee ; 'tis my heart and my soul, 

'Tis the flower of my years ; 
'Tis a cluster of grapes from the Crau that with all its 
leaves 

A peasant offers thee. 



184 FR£d£rIC MISTRAL 

Generous as a king, when thou broughtest me fame 

In the midst of Paris, 
Thou knowest that, in thy home, the day thou saidst 
to me, 

" Tu Marcellus eris ! " 

Like the pomegranate in the ripening sunbeam, 

My heart opened, 
And, unable to find more tender speech, 

Broke out in tears. 

It is interesting to notice that the earliest 
poem of our author, La Bello d'Avoust, is a tale 
of the supernatural, a poem of mystery ; it is an 
order of poetic inspiration rather rare in his 
work, and this first poem is quite as good as 
anything of its kind to be found in Mireio or 
Nerto. It has the form of a song with the 
refrain : — 

Ye little nightingales, ye grasshoppers, be still ! 
Hear the song of the beauty of August ! 

Margai of Val-Mairane, intoxicated with 
love, goes down into the plain two hours before 
the day. Descending the hill, she is wild. 
" In vain," she says, " I seek him, I have missed 
him. Ah, my heart trembles." 

The poem is full of imagery, delicate and 
pretty. Margai is so lovely that in the clouds 



LIS ISCLO D'OR 185 

the moon, enshrouded, says to the cloud very 
softly, " Cloud, beautiful cloud, pass away, my 
face would let fall a ray on Margai, thy shadow 
hinders me." And the bird offers to console 
her, and the glow-worm offers his light to 
guide her to her lover. Margai comes and 
goes until she meets her lover in the shadow 
of the trees. She tells of her weeping, of the 
moon, the birdling, and the glow-worm. " But 
thy brow is dark, art thou ill ? Shall I return 
to my father's house ? " 

" If my face is sad, on my faith, it is because 
a black moth hovering about hath alarmed 
me." 

And Margai says, " Thy voice, once so sweet, 
to-day seems a trembling sound beneath the 
earth; I shudder at it." 

" If my voice is so hoarse, it is because while 
waiting for thee I lay upon my back in the 
grass." 

" I was dying with longing, but now it is 
with fear. For the day of our elopement, be- 
loved, thou wearest mourning ! " 

" If my cloak be sombre and black, so is the 
night, and yet the night also glimmers." 

When the star of the shepherds began to 



186 FRiSDtRIC MISTRAL 

pale, and when the king of stars was about to 
appear, suddenly off they went, upon a black 
horse. And the horse flew on the stony road, 
and the ground shook beneath the lovers, and 
'tis said fantastic witches danced about them 
until day, laughing loudly. 

Then the white moon wrapped herself again, 
the birdling on the branch flew off in fright, 
even the glow-worm, poor little thing, put out 
his lamp, and quickly crept away under the 
grass. And it is said that at the wedding of 
poor Margai there was little feasting, little 
laughing, aijd the betrothal and the dancing 
took place in a spot where fire was seen 
through the crevices. 

"Vale of Val-Mairane, road to the Baux, 
never again o'er hill or plain did ye see 
Margai. Her mother prays and weeps, and 
will not have enough of speaking of her 
lovely shepherdess." 

This weird, legendary tale was composed in 
1848. The next effort of the poet is one of his 
masterpieces, wherein his inspiration is truest 
and most poetical. La Fin ddu MeissouniS 
(The Reaper's Death) is a noble, genuinely 
pathetic tale, told in beautifully varied verse, 



LIS ISCLO D'OR 187 

full of the love of field work, and aglow with 
sympathy for the toilers. The figure of the 
old man, stricken down suddenly by an acci- 
dental blow from the scythe of a young man 
mowing behind him, as he lies dying on the 
rough ground, urging the gleaners to go on 
and not mind him, praying to Saint John, — the 
patron of the harvesters, — is one not to be for- 
gotten. The description of the mowing, the 
long line of toilers with their scythes, the 
fierce sun making their blood boil, the sheaves 
falling by hundreds, the ruddy grain waving 
in the breath of the mistral, the old chief lead- 
ing the band, "the strong affection that urged 
the men on to cut down the harvest," — all is 
vividly pictured, and foretells the future poet 
of Mire 10. The words of the old man are full 
of his energy and faith : " The wheat, swollen 
and ripe, is scattering in the summer wind ; do 
not leave to the birds and ants, O binders, the 
wheat that comes from God ! " " What good 
is your weeping? better sing with the young 
fellows, for I, before you all, have finished my 
task. Perhaps, in the land where I shall be 
presently, it will be hard for me, when evening 
comes, to hear no more, stretched out upon the 



188 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

grass, as I used to, the strong, clear singing of 
the youth rising up amid the trees ; but it ap- 
pears, friends, that it was my star, or perhaps 
the Master, the One above, seeing the ripe 
grain, gathers it in. Come, come, good-by, I 
am going gently. Then, children, when you 
carry off the sheaves upon the cart, take away 
your chief on the load of wheat." 

And he begs Saint John to remember his olive 
trees, his family, who will sup at Christmas-tide 
without him. " If sometimes I have murmured, 
forgive me ! The sickle, meeting a stone, cries 
out, O master Saint John, the friend of God, 
patron of the reapers, father of the poor, up 
there in Paradise, remember me." 

And after the old man's death " the reapers, 
silent, sickle in hand, go on with the work 
in haste, for the hot mistral was shaking the 
ears." 

Among these earlier poems are found some 
cleverly told, homely tales, with a pointed 
moral. Such are La Plueio (The Rain), La 
Rascladuro de Petrin (The Scraping from the 
Kneading-trough). They are really excellent, 
and teach the lesson that the tillers of the soil 
have a holy calling, of which they may be 



LIS ISCLO D'OR 189 

proud, and that God sends them health and 
happiness, peace and liberty. The second of 
the poems just mentioned is a particularly- 
amusing story of choosing a wife according to 
the care she takes of her kneading-trough, the 
idea being derived from an old fablieau. There 
are one or two others purely humorous and 
capitally told. After 1860, however, the poet 
abandoned these homely, simple tales, that 
doubtless realized Roumanille's ideas of one 
aspect of the literary revival he was seeking 
to bring about. 

The poems are not arranged chronologically, 
but are classified as Songs, Romances, Sirventes, 
Reveries, Plaints, Sonnets, Nuptial Songs, etc. 

The Cansoun (Songs) are sung at every 
reunion of the Felibrige. They are set to 
melodies well known in Provence, and are 
spirited and vigorous indeed. The Germans 
who write about Provence are fond of making 
known the fact that the air of the famous 
Hymn to the Sun is a melody written by 
Kuecken. There is Lou Bastimen (The Ship), 
as full of dash and go as any English sea bal- 
lad. La Coutigo (The Tickling) is a dialogue 
between a mother and her love-sick son. La 



190 fr£d£ric mistral 

Coupo (The Cup) is the song of the Felibres 
par excellence ; it was composed for the recep- 
tion of a silver cup, sent to the Felibres by the 
Catalans. The coupo felibrenco is now a feature 
of all their banquets. The song expresses the 
enthusiasm of the Felibres for their cause. The 
refrain is, " Holy cup, overflowing, pour out in 
plenty the enthusiasms and the energy of the 
strong." The most significant lines are : — 

Of a proud, free people 
We are perhaps the end ; 
And, if the Felibres fall, 
Our nation will fall. 

Of a race that germs anew 
Perhaps we are the first growth ; 
Of our land we are perhaps 
The pillars and the chiefs. 

Pour out for us hope 
And dreams of youth, 
The memory of the past 
And faith in the coming year. 

The ideas and sentiments, then, that are ex- 
pressed in the shorter poems of Mistral, written 
since the publication of Mireio, have been, in 
the main, the ancient glories and liberties of 
Provence, a clinging to national traditions, to 



LIS ISCLO D'OR 191 

local traditions, and to the religion and ideas 
of ancestors, a profound dislike of certain 
modern ideas of progress, hatred of the level- 
ling influence of Paris, love of the Provengal 
speech, belief in the Latin race, in the Roman 
Catholic Church, unshaken faith in the future, 
love of the ideal and hatred of what is servile 
and sordid, an ardent love of Nature, an intense 
love of life and movement. These things are 
reflected in every variety of word and figure. 
He is not the poet of the romantic type, self- 
centred, filling his verse with the echoes of his 
own loves and joys and woes, nor is his poetry 
as large as humanity; Provence, France, the 
Latin race, are the limits beyond which it has 
no message or interest. 

Possibly no poet ever wrote as many lines to 
laud the language he was using. Such lines 
abound in each volume he has produced. 

" Se la lengo di moussu 

Toumbo en gargavaio 
Se tant d'escrivan coussu 

Pescon de ravaio, 
Nautri, li bon Prouveneau 
Vers li serre li plus aut 

Enauren la lengo 

De nosti valengo." 



192 FR&D&RIC MISTRAL 

If the language of the messieurs falls among the 
sweepings, if so many comfortably well-off writers 
fish for small fry, we, the good Provencals, toward 
the highest summits, raise the language of our 
valleys. 

The Sirventes addressed to the Catalan poets 
begins : — 

" Fraire de Catalougno, escoutas ! Nous an di 
Que fasias peralin revieure e resplendi 
Un di rampau de nosto lengo." 

Brothers from Catalonia, listen! We have heard 
that ye cause one of the branches of our language to 
revive and flourish yonder. 

In the same poem, the poet sings of the Trou- 
badours, whom none have since surpassed, who 
in the face of the clergy raised the language 
of the common people, sang in the very ears of 
the kings, sang with love, and sang freely, 
the coming of a new world and contempt for 
ancient fears, and later on he says : — 

"From the Alps to the Pyrenees, hand in 
hand, poets, let us then raise up the old Romance 
speech ! It is the sign of the family, the sacra- 
ment that binds the sons to the forefathers, man 
to the soil ! It is the thread that holds the 
nest in the branches. Fearless guardians of 



LIS ISCLO D'OR 193 

our beautiful speech, let us keep it free and 
pure, and bright as silver, for a whole people 
drinks at this spring ; for when, with faces on 
the ground, a people falls into slavery, if it 
holds its language, it holds the key that delivers 
it from the chains." 

The final stanza of the poem, written in honor 
of Jasmin in 1870, is as follows : — 

" For our dead and our fathers, and our 
sacred rights as a people and as poets, that 
yesterday were trampled beneath the feet of 
the usurper, and, outraged, cried out, now live 
again in glory ! Now, between the two seas 
the language of Oc triumphs. O Jasmin, thou 
hast avenged us ! " 

In the Rock of Sisyphus the poet says, 
"Formerly we kept the language that Nature 
herself put upon our lips." 

In the Poem to the Latin Race we read : — 

" Thy mother tongue, the great stream that 
spreads abroad in seven branches, pouring out 
love and light like an echo from Paradise, thy 
golden speech, O Romance daughter of the 
King-People, is the song that will live on 
human lips as long as speech shall have 
reason." 



194 FRfcDfofcIC MISTRAL 

Elsewhere we find : — 

" Oh, maintain thy historic speech. It is the 
proof that always thou carriest on high and 
free, thy coat of arms. In the language, a 
mystery, an old treasure is found. Each year 
the nightingale puts on new plumage, but keeps 
its song." 

One entire poem, Espouscado^ is a bitterly 
indignant protest against those who would sup- 
press the dialect, against the regents and the 
rectors whom " we must pay with our pennies 
to hear them scoff at the language that binds 
us to our fathers and our soil ! " And the poet 
cries out, "No, no, we'll keep our rebellious 
langue d'oc, grumble who will. We'll speak it 
in the stables, at harvest-time, among the silk- 
worms, among lovers, among neighbors, etc., 
etc. It shall be the language of joy and of 
brotherhood. We'll joke and laugh with it; 
— and as for the army, we'll take it to the 
barracks to keep off homesickness." 

And his anger rising, he exclaims : — 

" O the fools, the fools, who wean their chil- 
dren from it to stuff them with self -sufficiency, 
fatuity, and hunger ! Let them get drowned 
in the throng ! But thou, O my Provence, be 



LIS ISCLO D'OR 195 

not disturbed about the sons that disown thee 
and repudiate thy speech. They are dead, they 
are still-born children that survive, fed on bad 
milk." 

And he concludes : — 

"But, eldest born of Nature, you, the sun- 
browned boys, who speak with the maidens in 
the ancient tongue, fear not ; you shall remain 
the masters ! Like the walnuts of the plain, 
gnarled, stout, calm, motionless, exploited and 
ill-treated as you may be, O peasants (as 
they call you), you will remain masters of the 
land!" 

This was written in 1888. The quotations 
might be multiplied ; these suffice, however, to 
show the intense love of the poet for " the lan- 
guage of the soil," the energy with which he 
has constantly struggled for its maintenance. 
He is far from looking upon the multiplication 
of dialects as an evil, points to the literary glory 
of Greece amid her many forms of speech, and 
does not even seek to impose his own language 
upon the rest of southern France. He sym- 
pathizes with every attempt, wherever made, 
the world over, to raise up a patois into a lan- 
guage. Statesmen will probably think other- 



196 fr:ed£ric mistral 

wise, and there are nations which would at once 
take an immense stride forward if they could 
attain one language and a purely national lit- 
erature. The modern world does not appear 
to be marching in accordance with Mistral's 
view. 

The poems inspired by the love of the ancient 
ideals and literature of Provence are very beau- 
tiful. They have in general a fascinating 
swing and rhythm, and are filled with charming 
imagery. One of the best is IS Amiradou (The 
Belvedere), the story of a fairy imprisoned in 
the castle at Tarascon, "who will doubtless 
love the one who shall free her." Three 
knights attempt the rescue and fail. Then 
there comes along a little Troubadour, and 
sings so sweetly of the prowess of his fore- 
fathers, of the splendor of the Latin race, that 
the guard are charmed and the bolts fly back. 
And the fairy goes up to the top of the tower 
with the little Troubadour, and they stand 
mute with love, and look out over all the 
beautiful landscape, and the old monuments of 
Provence with their lessons. This is the king- 
dom of the fairy, and she bestows it upon him. 
" For he who knows how to read in this radiant 



LIS ISCLO D'OR 197 

book, must grow above all others, and all that 
his eye beholds, without paying any tithe, is his 
in abundance." 

The lilt of this little romance, with its pretty 
repetitions, is delightful, and the symbolism is, 
of course, perfectly obvious. 

There is the touching story of the Trouba- 
dour Catalan, slain by robbers in the Bois de 
Boulogne, where the Pre de Catalan now is ; 
there is the tale that accounts for the great 
chain that hangs across the gorge at Moustiers, 
a chain over six hundred feet long, bearing a 
star in the centre. A knight, being prisoner 
among the Saracens, vows to hang the chain 
before the chapel of the Virgin, if ever he re- 
turns home. 

" A ti ped, vierge Mario, 
Ma cadeno penjarai, 

Se jamai 

Tourne mai 
A Moustie, dins ma patrio ! " 

There is the tale of the Princess Clemence, 
daughter of a king of Provence. Her father 
was deformed, and the heir-presumptive to the 
French crown sought her in marriage. In 
order that the prince might be sure she had 



198 FR£d£rIC MISTRAL 

inherited none of the father's deformity, she 
was called upon to show herself in the garb 
of Lady Godiva before his ambassadors. This 
rather delicate subject is handled with consum- 
mate art. 

The idea of federalism is found expressed 
with sufficient clearness in various parts of these 
poems of the Golden Isles, and the patriotism 
of the poet, his love of France, is perfectly evi- 
dent, in spite of all that has been said to the 
contrary. In the poem addressed to the Cat- 
alans, after numerous allusions to the dissen- 
sions and rebellions of bygone days, we read : — 

"Now, however, it is clear; now, however, 
we know that in the divine order all is for the 
best; the Provencals, a unanimous flame, are 
part of great France, frankly, loyally ; the Cat- 
alans, with good-will, are part of magnanimous 
Spain. For the brook must flow to the sea, and 
the stone must fall on the heap ; the wheat is 
best protected from the treacherous cold wind 
when planted close ; and the little boats, if 
they are to navigate safely, when the waves are 
black and the air dark, must sail together. For 
it is good to be many, it is a fine thing to say, 
4 We are children of France ! ' " 



LIS ISCLO D'OR 199 

But in days of peace let each province de- 
velop its own life in its own way. 

" And France and Spain, when they see their 
children warming themselves together in the 
sunbeams of the fatherland, singing matins out 
of the same book, will say, ; The children have 
sense enough, let them laugh and play together, 
now they are old enough to be free.' 

"And we shall see, I promise you, the ancient 
freedom come down, O happiness, upon the 
smallest city, and love alone bind the races 
together; and if ever the black talon of the 
tyrant is seen, all the races will bound up to 
drive out the bird of prey!" 

Of all the poems of Mistral expressing this 
order of ideas, the one entitled The Countess 
made the greatest stir. It appeared in 1866, 
and called forth much angry discussion and 
imputation of treason from the enemies of the 
new movement. The Countess is an allegorical 
representation of Provence ; the fair descend- 
ant of imperial ancestors is imprisoned in a con- 
vent by her half-sister France. Formerly she 
possessed a hundred fortified towns, twenty 
seaports ; she had olives, fruit, and grain in 
abundance ; a great river watered her fields ; 



200 FRtofeRIC MISTRAL 

a great wind vivified the land, and the proud 
noblewoman could live without her neighbor, 
and she sang so sweetly that all loved her, 
poets and suitors thronged about her. 

Now, in the convent where she is cloistered 
all are dressed alike, all obey the rule of the 
same bell, all joy is gone. The half-sister has 
broken her tambourines and taken away her 
vineyards, and gives out that her sister is dead. 

Then the poet breaks into an appeal to the 
strong to break into the great convent, to hang 
the abbess, and say to the Countess, " Appear 
again, O splendor ! Away with grief, away ! 
Long life to joy! " 

Each stanza is followed by the refrain : — 

" Ah ! se me sabien entendre ! 
Ah ! se me voulien segui ! " 

Ah ! if they could understand me I 
Ah ! if they would follow me ! 

Mistral disdained to reply to the storm of 
accusations and incriminations raised by the 
publication of this poem. Lou Saume de la 
Penitenci, that appeared in 1870, set at rest 
all doubts concerning his deep and sincere 
patriotism. 

The Psalm of Penitence is possibly the finest 



LIS ISCLO D'OR 201 

of the short poems. It is certainly surpassed 

by no other in intensity of feeling, in genuine 

inspiration, in nobility and beauty of expression. 

It is a hymn of sorrow over the woes of France, 

a prayer of humility and resignation after the 

disaster of 1870. The reader must accept the 

idea, of course, that the defeat of the French 

was a visitation of Providence in punishment 

for sin. 

" Segnour, a la fin ta coulero 
Largo si tron 
Sus Dosti front : 
E dins la niue nosto galero 
Pico d'a pro 
Contro li ro." 

Lord, at last thy wrath hurls its thunderbolts upon 
our foreheads : 

And in the night our vessel strikes its prow against 
the rocks. 

France was punished for irreligion, for clos- 
ing the temples, for abandoning the sacraments 
and commandments, for losing faith in all ex- 
cept selfish interest and so-called progress, for 
contempt of the Bible and pride in science. 

The poet makes confession : — 

" Segnour, sian tis enfant proudigue ; 
Mai nautri sian 
Ti viei crestian : 



202 FRfeDfiRIC MISTRAL 

Que ta Justico nous castigue, 
Mai au trepas 
Nous laisses pas ! " 

Lord, we are thy prodigal sons; but we are thy 
Christians of old : 

Let thy justice chastise us, but give us not over unto 
death ! 

Then the poet prays in the name of all the 
brave men who gave up their lives in battle, in 
the name of all the mothers who will never 
again see their sons, in the name of the poor, 
the strong, the dead, in the name of all the 
defeats and tears and sorrow, the slaughter and 
the fires, the affronts endured, that God disarm 
his justice, and he concludes : — 

" Segnour, voulen deveni d'ome ; 
En liberta 
Pos nous bouta! 
Sian Gau-Rouman e gentilome, 
E marchan dre 
Dins noste endre. 

" Segnour, ddu mau sian pas l'encauso. 
Mando eicabas 
Un rai de pas ! 
Segnour, ajudo nosto Causo, 
E revieuren 
E t'amaren." 



LIS ISCLO D'OR 203 

Lord, we desire to become men ; thou canst set us free ! 

We are Gallo-Romans and of noble race, and we walk 
upright in our land. 

Lord, we are not the cause of the evil. Send down 
upon us a ray of peace ! Lord, aid our Cause, and we 
shall live again and love thee. 

The poem called The Stone of Sisyphus com- 
pletes sufficiently the evidence necessary to ex- 
culpate Mistral of the charge of antipatriotism 
and makes clear his thought. Provence was 
once a nation, she consented years ago to lose 
her identity in the union with France. Now 
it is proposed to heap up all the old traditions, 
the Gai Savoir, the glory of the Troubadours, the 
old language, the old customs, and burn them 
on a pyre. Well, France is a great people and 
Vive la nation. But some would go further, 
some would suppress the nation : " Down with 
the frontiers, national glories are an abomi- 
nation ! Wipe out the past, man is God ! Vive 
Vhumanite /" Our patrimony we repudiate. 
What are Joan of Arc, Saint Louis, and Tu- 
renne? All that is old rubbish. 

Then the people cry with Victor Hugo, 
" Emperaire, siegues maudi, maudi, maudi! 
nous as vendu" and hurl down the Vendome 
column, burn Paris, slaughter the priests, and 



204 FR&D&RIC MISTRAL 

then, worn out, commence again, like Sisyphus, 
to push the rock of progress. 

So much for the conservatism of Mistral. 

We shall conclude this story of the shorter 
poems with some that are not polemical or 
essentially Provengal; three or four are espe- 
cially noteworthy. The Drummer of Ar cole, Lou 
Prego-Dieu, Reseontre (Meeting), might prop- 
erly find a place in any anthology of general 
poetry, and an ode on the death of Lamartine 
is sincere and beautiful. Such poems must be 
read in the original. 

The first one, The Drummer of Arcole, is the 
story of a drummer boy who saved the day at 
Arcole by beating the charge; but after the 
wars are over, he is forgotten, and remains a 
drummer as before, becomes old and regrets 
his life given up to the service of his country. 
But one day, passing along the streets of Paris, 
he chances to look up at the Pantheon, and 
there in the huge pediment he reads the words, 
" Aux grands hommes la patrie reconnaissante" 

44 4 Drummer, raise thy head ! ' calls out a 
passer-by ! 4 The one up there, hast thou seen 
him?' Toward the temple that stood superb 
the old man raised his bewildered eyes. Just 



LIS ISCLO D'OR 205 

then the joyous sun shook his golden locks 
above enchanted Paris . . . 

" When the soldier saw the dome of the Pan- 
theon rising toward heaven, and with his drum 
hanging at his side, beating the charge, as if it 
were real, he recognized himself, the boy of 
Arcole, away up there, right at the side of 
the great Napoleon, intoxicated with his for- 
mer fury, seeing himself, so high, in full relief, 
above the years, the clouds, the storms, in 
glory, azure, sunshine, he felt a gentle swell- 
ing in his heart, and fell dead upon the pave- 
ment." 

Lou Prego-Dieu is a sweet poem embodying 
a popular belief. Prego-dieu is the name of a 
little insect, so called from the peculiar arrange- 
ment of its legs and antennae that makes it ap- 
pear to be in an attitude of prayer. Mistral's 
poetic ideas have been largely suggested to him 
by popular beliefs and the stories he heard at 
his fireside when a boy. This poem is one of 
the best of the kind he has produced, and, being 
eminently characteristic, will find juster treat- 
ment in a literal translation than in a commen- 
tary. The first half was written during the 
time he was at work upon Mireio^ in 1856, the 



206 FK&DfiRIC MISTRAL 

second in 1874. We quote the first stanza in 
the original, for the sake of showing its rhythm. 

" Ero un tantost d'aquel estieu 
Que ni vihave ni dourmieu : 
Fasieu miejour, tau que me plaise, 
Lou cahessou 
Toucant lou sou 
A raise." 



It was one afternoon this summer, while I 
was neither awake nor asleep. I was taking a 
noon siesta, as is my pleasure, my head at ease 
upon the ground. 

And greenish among the stubble, upon a 
spear of blond barley, with a double row of 
seeds, I saw a prego-dieu. 

" Beautiful insect," said I, " I have heard that, 
as a reward for thy ceaseless praying, God hath 
given thee the gift of divination. 

" Tell me now, good friend, if she I love hath 
slept well; tell what she is thinking at this 
hour, and what she is doing ; tell me if she is 
laughing or weeping." 

The insect, that was kneeling, stirred upon 
the tube of the tiny, leaning ear, and unfolded 
and waved his little wings. 



LIS ISCLO D'OR 207 

And his speech, softer than the softest breath 
of a zephyr wafted in a wood, sweet and mys- 
terious, reached my ear. 

" I see a maiden," said he, " in the cool shade 
beneath a cherry tree; the waving branches 
touch her; the boughs hang thick with cherries. 

" The cherries are fully ripe, fragrant, solid, 
red, and, amid the smooth leaves, make one 
hungry, and, hanging, tempt one. 

" But the cherry tree offers in vain the sweet- 
ness and the pleasing color of its bright, firm 
fruit, red as coral. 

" She sighs, trying to see if she can jump high 
enough to pluck them. Would that my lover 
might come ! He would climb up, and throw 
them down into my apron." 

So I say to the reapers : " Reapers, leave be- 
hind you a little corner uncut, where, during 
the summer, the prego-dieu may have shelter." 



II 

This autumn, going down a sunken road, I 
wandered off across the fields, lost in earthly 
thoughts. 

And, once more, amid the stubble, I saw, 



208 FR£D£KIC MISTRAL 

clinging to a tiny ear of grain, folded up in his 
double wing, the prego-dieu. 

" Beautiful insect," said I then, " I have heard 
that, as a reward for thy ceaseless praying, 
God hath given thee the gift of divination. 

44 And that if some child, lost amid the harvest 
fields, asks of thee his way, thou, little creature, 
showest him the way through the wheat. 

44 In the pleasures and pains of this world, I 
see that I, poor child, am astray; for, as he 
grows, man feels his wickedness. 

44 In the grain and in the chaff, in fear and in 
pride, in budding hope, alas for me, I see my ruin. 

44 1 love space, and I am in chains; among 
thorns I walk barefoot ; Love is God, and Love 
sins ; every enthusiasm after action is disap- 
pointed. 

44 What we accomplished is wiped out ; brute 
instinct is satisfied, and the ideal is not reached ; 
we must be born amid tears, and be stung among 
the flowers. 

44 Evil is hideous, and it smiles upon me ; the 
flesh is fair, and it rots ; the water is bitter, and 
I would drink ; I am languishing, I want to die 
and yet to live. 

44 1 am falling faint and weary ; O pr§go-dieu, 



LIS ISCLO D'OR 209 

cause some slight hope of something true to 
shine upon me ; show me the way." 

And straightway I saw that the insect 
stretched forth its slender arm toward Heaven ; 
mysterious, mute, earnest, it was praying. 

Such reference to religious doubt is else- 
where absent from Mistral's work. His faith 
is strong, and the energy of his life-work has 
its source largely, not only in this religious 
faith, but in his firm belief in himself, in his 
race, and in the mission he has felt called upon 
to undertake. Reflected obviously in the above 
poem is the growth of the poet in experience 
and in thought. 

Lastly, among the poems of his Iselo cT Or, 
we wish to call attention to one that, in its 
theme, recalls Le Lac, La Tristesse cT Olympio, 
and Le Souvenir. The poet comes upon the 
scene of his first love, and apostrophizes the 
natural objects about him. All four poets 
intone the strain, "Ye rocks and trees, guard 
the memory of our love." 

" O coumbo d'Uriage 
Bos fresqueirous, 
Ounte aven fa lou viage 
Dis amourous, 



210 FE^D^MC MISTKAL 

O vaa qu'aven noumado 

Noste univers, 
Se perdes ta ramado 

Gardo mi vers." 

O vale of Uriage, cool wood, where we made 
our lovers' journey ; O vale that we called 
our world, if thou lose thy verdure, keep my 
verses. 

Ye flowers of the high meadows that no man 
knoweth, watered by Alpine snows, ye are less 
pure and fresh in the month of April than the 
little mouth that smiles for me. 

Ye thunders and stern voices of the peaks, 
murmurings of wild woods, torrents from the 
mountains, there is a voice that dominates you 
all, the clear, beautiful voice of my love. 

Alas ! vale of Uriage, we may never return 
to thy leafy nooks. She, a star, vanisheth in 
air, and I, folding my tent, go forth into the 
wilderness. 

Apart from the intrinsic worth of the thought 
or sentiment, there is found in Mistral the es- 
sential gift of the poet, the power of expression 
— of clothing in words that fully embody the 
meaning, and seem to sing, in spontaneous musi- 
cal flow, the inner inspiration. He is superior 



LIS ISCLO D'OR 211 

to the other poets of the Felibrige, not only 
in the energy, the vitality of his personality, 
and in the fertility of his ideas, but also in this 
great gift of language. Even if he creates his 
vocabulary as he goes along, somewhat after 
the fashion of Ronsard and the Pleiade, he does 
this in strict accordance with the genius of his 
dialect, fortunately for him, untrammelled by 
traditions, and, what is significant, he does it 
acceptably. He is the master. His fellow- 
poets proclaim and acclaim his supremacy. 
No one who has penetrated to any degree 
into the genius of the Romance languages can 
fail to agree that in this point exists a master 
of one of its forms. 



CHAPTER III 

THE TRAGEDY, LA R^INO JANO 

The peculiar qualities and limitations of Mis- 
tral are possibly nowhere better evidenced than 
in this play. Full of charming passages, fre- 
quently eloquent, here and there very poetic, it 
is scarcely dramatic, and certainly not a trag- 
edy either of the French or the Shakespearian 
type. The most striking lines, the most elo- 
quent tirades, arise less from the exigences of 
the drama than from the constant desire of the 
poet to give expression to his love of Pro- 
vence. The attention of the reader is diverted 
at every turn from the adventures of the per- 
sons in the play to the glories and the beauties 
of the lovely land in which our poet was born. 
The matter of a play is certainly contained in 
the subject, but the energy of the author has 
not been spent upon the invention of strong 
situations, upon the clash of wills, upon the 

212 



THE TRAGEDY, LA RfclNO JANO 213 

psychology of his characters, upon the interplay 
of passions, but rather upon strengthening in 
the hearts of his Provengal hearers the love of 
the good Queen Joanna, whose life has some 
of the romance of that of Mary, Queen of Scots, 
and upon letting them hear from her lips and 
from the lips of her courtiers the praises of 
Provence. 

Mistral enumerates eight dramatic works 
treating the life of his heroine. They are a 
tragedy in five acts and a verse by Magnon 
(Paris, 1656), called Jeanne I re , reine de Naples; 
a tragedy in five acts and in verse by Laharpe, 
produced in 1781, entitled, Jeanne de Naples; 
an opera-comique in three acts, the book by 
De Leuven and Brunswick, the music by Mon- 
pon and Bordese, produced in 1840 ; an Italian 
tragedy, La Regina Griovanna, by the Marquis 
of Casanova, written about 1840 ; an Italian 
opera, the libretto by Ghislanzoni, who is known 
as the librettist of Aida, the music by Petrella 
(Milan, 1875) ; a play in verse by Brunetti, 
called Griovanna I di Napoli (Naples, 1881) ; a 
Hungarian play by Rakosi, Johanna es JEndre, 
and lastly the trilogy of Walter Savage Landor, 
Andrea of Hungary, Griovanna of Naples, and 



214 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

Ft a Rupert (London, 1853). Mistral's play 
is dated May, 1890. 

It may be said concerning the work of Lan- 
dor, which is a poem in dramatic form rather 
than a play, that it offers scarcely any points of 
resemblance with Mistral's beyond the few es- 
sential facts in the lives of Andrea and Joanna. 
Both poets take for granted the innocence of 
the Queen. It is worth noting that Provence 
is but once referred to in the entire work of the 
English poet. 

The introduction that precedes Mistral's play 
quotes the account of the life of the Queen 
from the Dictionnaire of Moreri (Lyons, 1681), 
which we here translate. 

" Giovanna, first of the name, Queen of Jeru- 
salem, Naples, and Sicily, Duchess of Apulia 
and Calabria, Countess of Provence, etc., was a 
daughter of Charles of Sicily, Duke of Calabria, 
who died in 1328, before his father Robert, and 
of Marie of Valois, his second wife. She was 
only nineteen years of age when she assumed 
the government of her dominions after her 
grandfather's death in 1343. She had already 
been married by him to his nephew, Andrea of 
Hungary. This was not a happy marriage ; for 



THE TRAGEDY, LA BfelNO JANO 216 

the inclinations of both were extremely con- 
trary, and the prince was controlled by a Fran- 
ciscan monk named Robert, and the princess by 
a washerwoman called Filippa Catenese. These 
indiscreet advisers brought matters to extremes, 
so that Andrea was strangled in 1345. The 
disinterested historians state ingenuously that 
Joanna was not guilty of this crime, although 
the others accuse her of it. She married again, 
on the 2d of August, 1346. Her second hus- 
band was Louis of Tarento, her cousin ; and 
she was obliged to leave Naples to avoid the 
armed attack of Louis, King of Hungary, who 
committed acts of extreme violence in this 
state. Joanna, however, quieted all these 
things by her prudence, and after losing this 
second husband, on the 25th of March, 1362, 
she married not long afterward a third, James 
of Aragon, Prince of Majorca, who, however, 
tarried not long with her. So seeing herself a 
widow for the third time, she made a fourth 
match in 1376 with Otto of Brunswick, of the 
House of Saxony ; and as she had no children, 
she adopted a relative, Charles of Duras. . . . 
This ungrateful prince revolted against Queen 
Joanna, his benefactress. . . . He captured 



216 ER&D&RIC MISTRAL 

Naples, and laid siege to the Castello Nuovo, 
where the Queen was. She surrendered. 
Charles of Duras had her taken to Muro, in 
the Basilicata, and had her put to death seven 
or eight months afterward. She was then in 
her fifty-eighth year. . . . Some authors say 
that he caused her to be smothered, others that 
she was strangled ; but the more probable view 
is that she was beheaded, in 1382, on the 5th of 
May. It is said that a Provengal astrologer, 
doubtless a certain Anselme who lived at that 
time, and who is very famous in the history of 
Provence, being questioned as to the future hus- 
band of the young princess, replied, 'Marita- 
bitur cum ALIO.' This word is composed of 
the initials of the names of her four husbands, 
Andrea, Louis, James, and Otto. This prin- 
cess, furthermore, was exceedingly clever, fond 
of the sciences and of men of learning, of whom 
she had a great many at her court, liberal and 
beautiful, prudent, wise, and not lacking in 
piety. She it is that sold Avignon to the 
popes. Boccaccio, Balde, and other scholars 
of her time speak of her with praise." 

In offering an explanation of the great popu- 
larity enjoyed by Joanna of Naples among the 



THE TRAGEDY, LA REINO JANO 217 

people of Provence, the poet does not hesitate 
to acknowledge that along with her beauty, her 
personal charm, her brilliant arrival on the 
gorgeous galley at the court of Clement VI, 
whither she came, eloquent and proud, to 
exculpate herself, her long reign and its vicissi- 
tudes, her generous efforts to reform abuses, 
must be counted also the grewsome procession 
of her four husbands ; and this popularity, he 
says, is still alive, after five centuries. The 
poet places her among such historic figures as 
Caius Marius, Ossian, King Arthur, Count 
Raymond of Toulouse, the good King Rene, 
Anne of Brittany, Roland, the Cid, to which 
the popular mind has attached heroic legends, 
race traditions, and mysterious monuments. 
The people of Provence still look back upon 
the days of their independence when she 
reigned, a sort of good fairy, as the good old 
times of Queen Joanna. Countless castles, 
bridges, churches, monuments, testify to her 
life among this enthusiastic people. Roads 
and ruins, towers and aqueducts, bear her 
name. Proverbs exist wherein it is preserved. 
"For us," says Mistral, "the fair Joanna is 
what Mary Stuart is for the Scotch, — a mirage 



218 FR^DftRIC MISTRAL 

of retrospective love, a regret of youth, of 
nationality, of poetry passed away. And anal- 
ogies are not lacking in the lives of the two 
royal, tragic enchantresses." Petrarch, speak- 
ing of her and her young husband surrounded 
by Hungarians, refers to them as two lambs 
among wolves. In a letter dated from Van- 
cluse, August, 1346, he deplores the death of 
the King, but makes no allusion to the com- 
plicity of the Queen. 

Boccaccio proclaims her the special pride of 
Italy, so gracious, gentle, and kindly, that 
she seemed rather the companion than the 
queen of her subjects. 

Our author cites likewise some of her accus- 
ers, and considers most of the current sayings 
against her as apocryphal. Some of these will 
not bear quotation in English. Mistral evi- 
dently wishes to believe her innocent, and he 
makes out a pretty good case. He approves 
the remark of Scipione Ammirato, that she 
contracted four successive marriages through 
a desire to have direct heirs. Another notices 
that had she been dissolute, she would have 
preferred the liberty of remaining a widow. 
The poet cites Pope Innocent VI, who gave 



THE TRAGEDY, LA REINO JANO 219 

her the golden rose, and sets great store upon 
the expression of Saint Catherine of Siena, who 
calls her "Venerabile madre in Gesu Cristo," 
and he concludes by saying, " We prefer to 
concur in the judgment of the good Giannone 
(1676-1748), which so well agrees with our 
traditions." 

The first act opens with a picture that might 
tempt a painter of Italian scenes. The Queen 
and her gay court are seated on the lawn of the 
palace garden at Naples, overlooking the bay 
and islands. At the very outset we hear of 
the Gai Savoir, and the Queen utters the es- 
sentially Proven§al sentiment that "the chief 
glory the world should strive for is light, for 
joy and love are the children of the sun, and 
art and literature the great torches." She calls 
upon Anfan of Sisteron to speak to her of her 
Provence, " the land of God, of song and youth, 
the finest jewel in her crown," and Anfan, in 
long and eloquent tirades, tells of Toulouse 
and Nice and the Isles of Gold, reviews the 
settling of the Greeks, the domination of the 
Romans, and the sojourn of the Saracens; 
Aix and Aries, les Baux, Toulon, are glorified 
again; we hear of the old liberties of these 



220 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

towns where men sleep, sing, and shout, and 
of the magnificence of the papal court at Avi- 
gnon. 

" Enfin, en Avignoun, fa lou papo ! gran dour 
Poude, magnificenci, e poumpo e resplendour, 
Que mestrejon la terro e fan, senso messorgo, 
Boufa l'alen de Dieu i ribo de la Sorgo." 

Lastly, in Avignon, there's the Pope ! greatness, power, 
magnificence, pomp, and splendor, dominating the earth, 
and without exaggeration, causing the breath of God to 
blow upon the banks of the Sorgue. 

We learn that the brilliancy and animation 
of the court at Avignon outshine the glories 
of Rome, and in language that fairly glitters 
with its high-sounding, highly colored words. 
We hear of Petrarch and Laura, and the asso- 
ciations of Vaucluse. 

At this juncture the Prince arrives, and is 
struck by the resemblance of the scene to a 
court of love; he wonders if they are not 
discussing the question whether love is not 
drowned in the nuptial holy water font, or 
whether the lady inspires the lover as much 
with her presence as when absent. And the 
Queen defends her mode of life and tempera- 
ment ; she cannot brook the cold and gloomy 



THE TRAGEDY, LA REINO JANO 221 

ways of the north. Were we to apply the 
methods of Voltaire's strictures of Corneille 
to this play, it might be interesting to see how 
many vers de eomedie could be found in these 
scenes of dispute between the prince consort 
and his light-hearted wife. 

" A l'avans ! zdu ! en festo arrouinas lou Tresor ! " 
Go ahead ! that's right, ruin the treasury with your feasts ! 

and to his objections to so many flattering cour- 
tiers, the Queen replies : — 

" Voules que moun palais devengue un mounastie ? " 
Do you want my palace to become a monastery ? 

Joanna replies nobly and eloquently to the 
threats of her husband to assume mastery over 
her by violent means, and, in spite of the 
anachronism (the poet makes her use and seem- 
ingly invent the term Renascence), her defence 
of the arts and science of her time is forceful 
and enthusiastic, and carries the reader along. 
That this sort of eloquence is dramatic, appears, 
however, rather doubtful. 

The next scene interests us more directly in 
the characters before us. The Prince, left alone 
with his confidant, Fra Rupert, gives expression 
to his passionate love for the Queen, and pours 



222 FR&D&RIC MISTRAL 

forth the bitterness of his soul to see it unre- 
quited. The fierce Hungarian monk denounces, 
rather justly, it appears to us, the license and 
levity of the Italian court, and incites Andrea 
to an appeal to the Pope, "a potentate that has 
no army, whose dominion extends from pole to 
pole, who binds and unbinds at his will, up- 
holds, makes, or unmakes thrones as an almighty 
master." 

But Andrea fears the Queen would never 
pardon him. 

" E se noun ai en plen lou meu de si caresso, 
L'einperi universau m'es un gourg d'amaresso ! " 

And if I have not fully the honey of her caresses 
The empire of the world is to me a gulf of bitterness. 

Finally the monk and La Catanaise stand 
alone before us. This woman is the Queen's 
nurse, who loves her with a fierce sort of pas- 
sion, and it is she who commits the crime that 
causes the play to be called a tragedy. This 
final scene brings out a flood of the most violent 
vituperation from this veritable virago, some 
of it exceedingly low in tone. The friar leaves 
with the threat to have a red-hot nail run 
through her hellish tongue, and La Catanaise, 



THE TRAGEDY, LA REINO JANO 223 

standing alone, gives vent to her fury in threats 
of murder. 

The next act reveals the Hall of Honor in 
the Castel-Nuovo at Naples. Andrea in anger 
proclaims himself king, and in the presence of 
the Queen and the Italian courtiers gives away- 
one after another all the offices and honors of 
the realm to his Hungarian followers. A conflict 
with drawn swords is about to ensue, when the 
Queen rushes between the would-be combatants, 
reminding them of the decree of the Pope ; but 
Andrea in fury accuses the Queen of conduct 
worthy a shameless adventuress, and cites the 
reports that liken her to Semiramis in her 
orgies. The Prince of Taranto throws down 
his glove to the enraged Andrea, who replies 
by a threat to bring him to the executioner. 
The Prince of Taranto answers that the execu- 
tioner may be the supreme law for a king, 

"Mai per un qu'a Founour dins lou pies e dins Tamo, 
Uno escorno, cousin, se purgo erne la lamo." 

But for one who has honor in his breast and his soul, 
An insult, cousin, is purged with the sword. 

Andrea turns to his knights, and leaving the 
room with them points to the flag bearing the 



224 FR£d£rIC MISTRAL 

block and axe as emblems. The partisans of 
Joanna remain full of indignation. La Cata- 
naise addresses them. The Sicilians, she says, 
waste no time in words, but have a speedier 
method of punishing a wrong, and she reminds 
them of the massacre at Palermo. The Prince 
of Taranto discountenances the proposed crime, 
for the Queen's fair name would suffer. But 
the fierce woman points to the flag. " Do you 
see that axe hanging from a thread ? You are 
all cowards ! Let me act alone." And the 
Prince nobly replies, " Philippine, battles are 
fought in the sunlight ; men of our renown, 
men of my stamp, do not crouch down in the 
dark shadow of a plot." And the Catanaise 
again shows the flag. " Do you see the axe 
falling upon the block ? " 

Joanna enters to offer the Prince her thanks 
for his chivalrous defence of her fair name, and 
dismisses the other courtiers. The ensuing 
brief scene between the Queen and the Prince 
is really very eloquent and very beautiful. 
The Queen recalls the fact that she was married 
at nine to Andrea, then only a child too ; and 
she has never known love. The poorest of 
the shepherdesses on the mountains of Calabria 



THE TRAGEDY, LA R&INO JANO 225 

may quench her thirst at the spring, but she, 
the Queen of the Sun, if to pass away the time, 
or to have the appearance of happiness, she 
loves to listen to the echo of song, to behold 
the joy and brilliancy of a noble fete, her 
very smile becomes criminaL And the Prince 
reminds her that she is the Provengal queen, 
and that in the great times of that people, if 
the consort were king, love was a god, and he re- 
calls the names of all the ladies made famous by 
the Troubadours. Thereupon the Queen in an 
outburst of enthusiasm truly Felibrean invokes 
the God of Love, the God that slew Dido, and 
speaks in the spirit of the days of courtly love, 
" O thou God of Love, hearken unto me. If my 
fatal beauty is destined sooner or later to bring 
about my death, let this flame within me be, at 
least, the pyre that shall kindle the song of the 
poet ! Let my beauty be the luminous star 
exalting men's hearts to lofty visions ! " 

The chivalrous Prince is dismissed, and 
Joanna is alone with her thoughts. The little 
page Dragonet sings outside a plaintive song 
with the refrain : — 

* Que regret ! What regret ! 

Jamai digues toun secret." Never tell thy secret. 



226 FR^DISRIC MISTRAL 

La Catanaise endeavors to excite the fears of 
the Queen, insinuating that the Pope may give 
the crown to Andrea. Joanna has no fear. 

"We shall have but to appear before the 
country with this splendor of irresistible grace, 
and like the smoke borne away by the breeze, 
suddenly my enemies shall disappear." 

We may ask whether such self-praise comes 
gracefully from the Queen herself, whether she 
might not be less conscious of her own charm. 
La Catanaise is again alone on the scene, threat- 
ening. "The bow is drawn, the hen setting." 
This last comparison, the reader will remark, 
would be simply impossible as the termination 
of an act in a serious English play. This last 
scene, too, is wofully weak and purposeless. 

The conversation of three courtiers at the 
beginning of Act III apprises us of the fact 
that the Pope has succeeded in bringing about 
a reconciliation between the royal pair, and that 
they are both to be crowned, and as a matter of 
precaution, the nurse Philippine, and the monk 
Fra Rupert are to be sent upon their several 
ways. The scene is next filled by the conspir- 
ators, La Catanaise directing the details of the 
plots. It is made clear that the Queen is 



THE TRAGEDY, LA RfelNO JANO 227 

utterly ignorant of these proceedings, which are 
after all useless ; for we fail to see what valid 
motive these plotters have to urge them on to 
their contemptible deed. A brilliant banquet 
scene ensues, wherein Anfan of Sisteron sings 
a song of seven stanzas about the fairy M flu- 
sine, and seven times Dragonet sings the refrain, 
"Sian de la rago di lesert" (We are of the 
race of the lizards). And there are enthusias- 
tic tirades in praise of the Queen and of Pro- 
vence, and all is merry. But Andrea spills salt 
upon the table, which evil augury seems to be 
taken seriously. This little episode is foolish, 
and unworthy of a tragedy. We are on the 
verge of an assassination. Either the gloomy 
forebodings and the terror of the event should 
be impressed upon us, or the exaggerated gayety 
and high spirits of the revellers should by con- 
trast make the coming event seem more terri- 
ble; but the spilling of salt is utterly trivial. 
After the feast La Catanaise and her daughter 
proceed to their devilish work, in the room now 
lighted only by the pale rays of the moon, while 
the voice of the screech-owl is heard outside. 
The trap is set for the King ; he is strangled 
just out of sight with the silken noose. The 



228 FR£d£rIC MISTRAL 

Queen is roused by her nurse. The palace is 
in an uproar, and the act terminates with a pas- 
sionate demand for vengeance and justice on 
the part of Fra Rupert. 

And now the Fourth Act. Here Mistral is in 
his element ; here his love of rocky landscapes, 
of azure seas and golden islands, of song and 
festivity, finds full play. The tragedy is for- 
gotten, the dramatic action completely inter- 
rupted, — never mind. We accompany the 
Queen on her splendid galley all the way from 
Naples to Marseilles. She leaves amid the 
acclamations of the Neapolitans, recounts the 
splendors of the beautiful bay, and promises to 
return "like the star of night coming out of the 
mist, laurel in hand, on the white wings of her 
Provengal galley." The boat starts, the rowers 
sing their plaintive rhythmic songs, the Queen 
is enraptured by the beauty of the fleeing 
shores, the white sail glistens in the glorious 
blue above. She is lulled by the motion of the 
boat and the waving of the hangings of purple 
and gold. Midway on her journey she receives 
a visit from the Infante of Majorca, James of 
Aragon, who seems to be wandering over that 
part of the sea; then the astrologer Anselme 



THE TRAGEDY, LA REINO JANO 229 

predicts her marriage with Alio and her death. 
She shall be visited with the sins of her ances- 
tors ; the blood spilled by Charles of Anjou cries 
for vengeance. The Queen passes through a 
moment of gloom. She dispels it, exclaiming : 
" Be it so, strike where thou wilt, O fate, I am 
a queen ; I shall fight, if need be, until death, 
to uphold my cause and my womanly honor. 
If my wild planet is destined to sink in a sea 
of blood and tears, the glittering trace I shall 
leave on the earth will show at least that I was 
worthy to be thy great queen, O brilliant 
Provence ! " 

She descends into the ship, and the rowers 
resume their song. Later we arrive at Nice, 
where the Queen is received by an exultant 
throng. She forgets the awful predictions and 
is utterly filled with delight. She will visit all 
the cities where she is loved, her ambition is to 
see her flag greeted all along the Mediterranean 
with shouts of joy and love. She feels herself 
to be a Proven9ale. " Come, people, here I am; 
breathe me in, drink me in ! It is sweet to me 
to be yours, and sweet to please you; and you 
may gaze in love and admiration upon me, for I 
am your queen ! " 



230 FR£d£rIC MISTRAL 

The journey is resumed. We pass the Isles 
of Gold, and the raptures are renewed. At 
Marseilles the Queen is received by the Consuls, 
and swears solemnly to respect all the rights, 
customs, and privileges of the land, and the 
Consul exacts as the last oath that she swear to 
see that the noble speech of Aries shall be main- 
tained and spoken in the land of Provence. 
The act closes with the sentiment, "May Pro- 
vence triumph in every way ! " 

The last act brings us to the great hall of 
the papal palace at Avignon, where the Pope is 
to pronounce judgment upon the Queen. Fra 
Rupert, disguised as a pilgrim, harangues the 
throng, and two Hungarian knights are beaten 
in duel by Galeas of Mantua. This duel, with 
its alternate cries of Dau ! Dau ! Te ! Te ! 
Zou ! Zou ! is difficult to take seriously and 
reminds us of Tartarin. The Queen enters in 
conversation with Petrarch. The Hungarian 
knights utter bitter accusations against the 
Queen, who gives them in place of iron chains 
the golden chains about her neck, whereupon 
the knights gallantly declare their hearts are 
won forever. The doors open at the back and 
we see the papal court. Bertrand des Baux 



THE TRAGEDY, LA REINO JANO 231 

gives a hideous account of the torture and 
death of those who had a hand in the death of 
Andrea. The Queen makes a long speech, ex- 
pressing her deep grief at the calumnies and 
slander that beset her. The court and people 
resolve themselves into a kind of opera chorus, 
expressing their various sentiments in song. 
The Queen next reviews her life with Andrea, 
and concludes : — 

" And it seemed to me noble and worthy of 
a queen to melt with a glance the cold of the 
frost, to make the almond tree blossom with a 
smile, to be amiable to all, affable, generous, 
and lead my people with a thread of wool ! 
Yes, all the thought of my mad youth was to be 
loved and to reign by the power of love. Who 
could have foretold that, afterward, on the day 
of the great disaster, all this should be made a 
reproach against me! that I should be accused, 
at the age of twenty, of instigating an awful 
crime ! " 

And she breaks down weeping. The page, 
the people, the pilgrim, and the astrologer again 
sing in a sort of operatic ensemble their various 
emotions. The Pope absolves the Queen, the 
pilgrim denounces the verdict furiously, and 



232 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

is put to death by Galeas of Mantua. So ends 
the play. 

La Reino Jano is a pageant rather than a 
tragedy. It is full of song and sunshine, glow 
and glitter. The characters all talk in the ex- 
aggerated and exuberant style of Mistral, who 
is not dramatist enough to create independent 
being, living before us. The central person- 
age is in no sense a tragic character. The 
fanatical Fra Rupert and the low, vile-tongued 
Catanaise are not tragic characters. The psy- 
chology throughout is decidedly upon the 
surface. 

The author in his introduction warns us that 
to judge this play we must place ourselves at 
the point of view of the Provengals, in whom 
many an expression or allusion that leaves the 
ordinary reader or spectator untouched, will 
possibly awaken, as he hopes, some particular 
emotion. This is true of all his literature ; the 
Provengal language, the traditions, the memo- 
ries of Provence, are the web and woof of it all. 

It is interesting to note the impression made 
by the language upon a Frenchman and a critic 
of the rank of Jules Lemaitre. He says in 
concluding his review of this play : — 



THE TRAGEDY, LA RfelNO JANO 233 

"The language is too gay, it has too much 
sing-song, it is too harmonious. It does not 
possess the rough gravity of the Spanish, and 
has too few of the i's and e's that soften the 
sonority of the Italian. I may venture to say 
it is too expressive, too full of onomatopoeia. 
Imagine a language, in which to say, "He 
bursts out laughing," one must use the word 
s'escacalasso ! There are too many on's and oun's 
and too much t$ and dz in the pronunciation. 
So that the Provengal language, in spite of 
everything, keeps a certain patois vulgarity. 
It forces the poet, so to say, to perpetual song- 
making. It must be very difficult, in that 
language, to have an individual style, still more 
difficult to express abstract ideas. But it is a 
merry language." 

The play has never yet been performed, and 
until a trial is made, one is inclined to think it 
would not be effective, except as a spectacle. 
It is curious that the Troubadours produced no 
dramatic literature whatever, and that the same 
lack is found in the modern revival. 

Aubanel's Lou Pan ddu Peeat (The Bread 
of Sin), written in 1863, and performed in 1878 
at Montpellier, seems to have been successful, 



234 FR£d£rIC MISTRAL 

and was played at Paris at the Theatre Libre in 
1888, in the verse-translation made by Paul 
Arene. Aubanel wrote two other plays, Lou 
Pastre, which is lost, and Lou Raubatdn, a work 
that must be considered unfinished. Two plays, 
therefore, constitute the entire dramatic pro- 
duction in the new language. 



PART THIRD 



CONCLUSIONS 



CONCLUSIONS 

It would be idle to endeavor to determine 
whether Mistral is to be classed as a great poet, 
or whether the Felibres have produced a great 
literature, and nothing is defined when the 
statement is made that Mistral is or is not a 
great poet. His genius may be said to be lim- 
ited geographically, for if from it were elimi- 
nated all that pertains directly to Provence, 
the remainder would be almost nothing. The 
only human nature known to the poet is the 
human nature of Provence, and while it is 
perfectly true that a human being in Provence 
could be typical of human nature in general, and 
arouse interest in all men through his humanity 
common to all, the fact is, that Mistral has not 
sought to express what is of universal inter- 
est, but has invariably chosen to present human 
life in its Provengal aspects and from one point 
of view only. A second limitation is found in 

237 



238 FR^DfeKIC MISTRAL 

the unvarying exteriority of his method of pre- 
senting human nature. Never does he probe 
deeply into the souls of his Provencals. Very 
vividly indeed does he reproduce their words 
and gestures ; but of the deeper under-currents, 
the inner conflicts, the agonies of doubt and 
indecision, the bitterness of disappointments, 
the lofty aspirations toward a higher inner life 
or a closer communion with the universe, the 
moral problems that shake a human soul, not a 
syllable. Nor is he a poet who pours out his 
own soul into verse. 

External nature is for him, again, nature as 
seen in Provence. The rocks and trees, the 
fields and the streams, do not awaken in him a 
stir of emotions because of their power to com- 
pel a mood in any responsive poetic soul, but 
they excite him primarily as the rocks and trees, 
the fields and streams of his native region. He 
is no mere word-painter. Rarely do his descrip- 
tions appear to exist for their own sake. They 
furnish a necessary, fitting, and delightful back- 
ground to the action of his poems. They are 
too often indications of what a Provengal ought 
to consider admirable or wonderful, they are 
sometimes spoiled by the poet's excessive par- 



CONCLUSIONS 239 

tiality for his own little land. His work is 
ever the work of a man with a mission. 

There is no profound treatment of the theme 
of love. Each of the long poems and his play- 
have a love story as the centre of interest, but 
the lovers are usually children, and their love 
utterly without complications. There is every- 
where a lovely purity, a delightful simplicity, 
a straightforward naturalness that is very 
charming, but in this theme as in the others, 
Mistral is incapable of tragic depths and heights. 
So it is as regards the religious side of man's 
nature. The poet's work is filled with allu- 
sions to religion ; there are countless legends 
concerning saints and hermits, descriptions of 
churches and the papal palace, there is the 
detailed history of the conversion of Provence 
to Christianity, but the deepest religious spirit 
is not his. Only twice in all his work do we 
come upon a profounder religious sense, in the 
second half of Lou Prego-Dieu and in Lou 
Saume de la Penitenci. There is no doubt 
that Mistral is a believer, but religious feeling 
has not a large place in his work ; there are no 
other meditations upon death and destiny. 

And this d me du Midi> spirit of Provence^ the 



240 FREDERIC MISTRAL 

genius of his race that he has striven to express, 
what is it ? How shall it be defined or formu- 
lated? Alphonse Daudet, who knew it, and 
loved it, whose Parisian life and world-wide 
success did not destroy in him the love of his 
native Provence, who loved the very food of 
the Midi above all others, and jumped up in 
joy when a southern intonation struck his ear, 
and who was continually beset with longings to 
return to the beloved region, has well defined it. 
He was the friend of Mistral and followed the 
poet's efforts and achievements with deep and 
affectionate interest. It is not difficult to see 
that the satire in the " Tartarin " series is not 
unkind, nor is it untrue. Daudet approved of 
the Felibrige movement, though what he him- 
self wrote in Provencal is insignificant. He 
believed that the national literature could be 
best vivified by those who most loved their 
homes, that the best originality could thus be 
attained. He has said r 1 — 

" The imagination of the southerners differs 
from that of the northerners in that it does not 
mingle the different elements and forms in lit- 
erature, and remains lucid in its outbreaks. In 

1 See Bevue de Paris, 15 avril, 1898. 



CONCLUSIONS 241 

our most complex natures you never encounter 
the entanglement of directions, relations, and 
figures that characterizes a Carlyle, a Browning, 
or a Poe. For this reason the man of the north 
always finds fault with the man of the south 
for his lack of depth and darkness. 

"If we consider the most violent of human 
passions, love, we see that the southerner makes 
it the great affair of his life, but does not allow 
himself to become disorganized. He likes the 
talk that goes with it, its lightness, its change. 
He hates the slavery of it. It furnishes a pre- 
text for serenades, fine speeches, light scoffing, 
caresses. He finds it difficult to comprehend 
the joining together of love and death, which 
lies in the northern nature, and casts a shade of 
melancholy upon these brief delights." 

Daudet notes the ease with which the south- 
erner is carried away and duped by the mirage 
of his own fancy, his semi-sincerity in excite- 
ment and enthusiasm. He admired the natural 
eloquence of his Provencals. He found a justi- 
fication for their exaggerations. 

" Is it right to accuse a man of lying, who is 
intoxicated with his own eloquence, who, with- 
out evil intent, or love of deceit, or any instinct 



242 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

of scheming or false trading, seeks to embellish 
his own life, and other people's, with stories he 
knows to be illusions, but which he wishes were 
true? Is Don Quixote a liar? Are all the 
poets deceivers who aim to free us from reali- 
ties, to go soaring off into space? After all, 
among southerners, there is no deception. 
Each one, within himself, restores things to 
their proper proportions." 

Daudet had Mistral's love of the sunshine. 
He needed it to inspire him. He believed it 
explained the southern nature. 

Concerning the absence of metaphysics in the 
race he says : — 

"These reasonings may culminate in a state 
of mind such as we see extolled in Buddhism, a 
colorless state, joyless and painless, across which 
the fleeting splendors of thought pass like stars. 
Well, the man of the south cares naught for 
that sort of paradise. The vein of real sensa- 
tion is freely, perpetually open, open to life. 
The side that pertains to abstraction, to logic, 
is lost in mist." 

We have referred to the power of story- 
telling among the Proven§als and their re- 
sponsiveness as listeners. Daudet mentions 



CONCLUSIONS 243 

the contrast to be observed between an audi- 
ence of southerners and the stolid, self-con- 
tained attitude of a crowd in the north. 

The evil side of the southern temperament, 
the faults that accompany these traits, are 
plainly stated by the great novelist. En- 
thusiasm turns to hypocrisy, or brag ; the 
love of what glitters, to a passion for luxury 
at any cost ; sociability, the desire to please, 
become weakness and fulsome flattery. The 
orator beats his breast, his voice is hoarse, 
choked with emotion, his tears flow conven- 
iently, he appeals to patriotism and the noblest 
sentiments. There is a legend, according to 
Daudet, which says that when Mirabeau cried 
out, " We will not leave unless driven out at 
the point of the bayonet," a voice off at one 
side corrected the utterance, murmuring sarcas- 
tically, "And if the bayonets come, we make 
tracks ! " 

The southerner, when he converses, is roused 
to animation readily. His eye flashes, his words 
are uttered with strong intonations, the im- 
pressiveness of a quiet, earnest, self-contained 
manner is unknown to him. 

Daudet is a novelist and a humorist. Mis- 



244 FR&D&RIC MISTRAL 

tral is a poet ; hence, although he professes to 
aim at a full expression of the "soul of his 
Provence," there are many aspects of the Pro- 
vengal nature that he has not touched upon. 
He has omitted all the traits that lend them- 
selves to satirical treatment, and, although he 
is in many ways a remarkable realist, he has 
very little dramatic power, and seems to lack 
the gift of searching analysis of individual 
character. It is hardly fair to reckon it as a 
shortcoming in the poet and apostle of Pro- 
vence that he presents only what is most beauti- 
ful in the life about him. The novelist offers 
us a faithful and vivid image of the men of his 
own day. The poet glorifies the past, clings to 
tradition, and exhorts his countrymen to return 
to it. 

Essentially and above all else a conservative, 
Mistral has the gravest doubts about so-called 
modern progress. Undoubtedly honest in de- 
siring the well-being of his fellow Proven gals, 
he believes that this can be preserved or attained 
only by a following of tradition. There must 
be no breaking with the past. Daudet, late in 
life, adhered to this doctrine. His son quotes 
him as saying : — 



CONCLUSIONS 245 

"I am following, with gladness, the results 
of the impulse Mistral has given. Return to 
tradition ! that is our salvation in the present 
going to pieces. I have always felt this in- 
stinctively. It came to me clearly only a few 
years ago. It is a bad thing to become wholly 
loosened from the soil, to forget the village 
church spire. Curiously enough poetry at- 
taches only to objects that have come down to 
us, that have had long use. What is called 
progress, a vague and very doubtful term, rouses 
the lower parts of our intelligence. The higher 
parts vibrate the better for what has moved 
and inspired a long series of imaginative minds, 
inheriting each from a predecessor, strength- 
ened by the sight of the same landscapes, by 
the same perfumes, by the touch of the same 
furniture, polished by wear. Very ancient im- 
pressions sink into the depth of that obscure 
memory which we may call the race-memory, 
out of which is woven the mass of individual 
memories." 

Mistral is truly the poet of the Midi. One 
can best see how superior he is as an artist in 
words by comparing him with the foremost of 
his fellow-poets. He is a master of language. 



246 FRfeD^RIC MISTRAL 

He has the eloquence, the enthusiasm, the opti- 
mism of his race. His poetic earnestness saves 
his tendency to exaggerate. His style, in all 
its superiority, is a southern style, full of in- 
terjections, full of long, sonorous words. His 
thought, his expressions, are ever lucid. His 
art is almost wholly objective. His work has 
extraordinary unity, and therefore does not es- 
cape the monotony that was unavoidable when 
the poet voluntarily limited himself to a single 
purpose in life, and to treatment of the themes 
thereunto pertaining. Believers in material 
progress, those who look for great changes in 
political and social conditions, will turn from 
Mistral with indifference. His contentment 
with present things, and his love of the past, 
are likely to irritate them. Those who seek in 
a poet consolation in the personal trials of life, 
a new message concerning human destiny, a 
new note in the everlasting themes that the 
great poets have sung, will be disappointed. 
A word must be said of him as a writer of 
French. In the earlier years he felt the weight 
of the Academy. He did not feel that French 
would allow full freedom. He was scrupulous 
and timid. He soon shook off this timidity 



CONCLUSIONS 247 

and became a really remarkable wielder of the 
French tongue. His translations of his own 
works have doubtless reached a far wider pub- 
lic than the works themselves, and are certainly 
characterized by great boldness, clearness, and 
an astonishingly large vocabulary. 

His earlier work is clearly inspired by his 
love of Greek literature, and those qualities 
in Latin literature wherein the Greek genius 
shines through, possibly also by some mysteri- 
ous affinity with the Greek spirit resulting from 
climate or atavism. This never entirely left 
him. When later he writes of Provence in the 
Middle Age, of the days of the Troubadours, 
his manner does not change ; his work offers 
no analogies here with the French Romantic 
school. 

No poet, it would seem, was ever so in love 
with his own language ; no artist ever so loved 
the mere material he was using. Mistral loves 
the w r ords he uses, he loves their sound, he loves 
to hear them from the lips of those about him; 
he loves the intonations and the cadences of 
his verse ; his love is for the speech itself aside 
from any meaning it conveys. A beautiful in- 
strument it is indeed. Possibly nothing is more 



248 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

peculiarly striking about him than this extreme 
enthusiasm for his golden speech, his lengo 
d'or. 

To him must be conceded the merit of origi- 
nality, great originality. In seeking the source 
of many of his conceptions, one is led to the 
conclusion, and his own testimony bears it out, 
that they are the creations of his own fancy. 
If there is much prosaic realism in the Poem 
of the Rhone, the Prince and the Anglore are 
purely the children of Mistral's almost naive 
imagination, and Calendau and Esterello are 
attached to the real world of history by the 
slenderest bonds. When we seek for resem- 
blances between his conceptions and those of 
other poets, we can undoubtedly find them. 
Mireille now and then reminds of Daphnis and 
Chloe, of Hermann and Dorothea, of Evange- 
line, but the differences are far more in evidence 
than the resemblances. Esterello is in an atti- 
tude toward Calendau not without analogy to 
that of Beatrice toward Dante, but it would be 
impossible to find at any point the slightest 
imitation of Dante. Some readers have been 
reminded of Faust in reading Nerto, but beyond 
the scheme of the Devil to secure a woman's 



CONCLUSIONS 249 

soul, there is little similarity. Nothing could 
be more utterly without philosophy than Nerto. 
Mistral has drawn his inspirations from within 
himself ; he has not worked over the poems and 
legends of former poets, or sought much of his 
subject-matter in the productions of former 
ages. He has not suffered from the deep re- 
flection, the pondering, and the doubt that 
destroy originality. 

If Mistral had written his poems in French, 
he would certainly have stood apart from the 
general line of French poets. It would have 
been impossible to attach him to any of the so- 
called " schools " of poetry that have followed 
one another during this century in France. He is 
as unlike the Romantics as he is unlike the Par- 
nassians. M. Brunetiere would find no diffi- 
culty in applying to his work the general epithet 
of " social " that so well characterizes French 
literature considered in its main current, for 
Mistral always sings to his fellow-men to move 
them, to persuade them, to stir their hearts. 
Almost all of his poems in the lyrical form 
show him as the spokesman of his fellows or 
as the leader urging them to action. He is 
therefore not of the school of " Art for Art's 



250 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

sake," but his art is consecrated to the cause he 
represents. 

His thought is ever pure and high ; his les- 
sons are lessons of love, of noble aims, of energy 
and enthusiasm. He is full of love for the best 
in the past, love of his native soil, love of his 
native landscapes, love of the men about him, 
love of his country. He is a poet of the "Gai 
Saber," joyous and healthy, he has never felt a 
trace of the bitterness, the disenchantment, the 
gloom and the pain of a Byron or a Leopardi. 
He is eminently representative of the race he 
seeks to glorify in its own eyes and in the 
world's, himself a type of that race at its very 
best, with all its exuberance and energy, with its 
need of outward manifestation, life and move- 
ment. An important place must be assigned 
to him among those who have bodied forth 
their poetic conceptions in the various eupho- 
nious forms of speech descended from the 
ancient speech of Rome. 

In Provence, and far beyond its borders, he is 
known and loved. His activity has not ceased. 
His voice is still heard, clear, strong, hopeful, 
inspiring. Mireille is sung in the ruined 
Roman theatre at Aries, museums are founded 



CONCLUSIONS 251 

to preserve Provengal art and antiquities, the 
Felibrean feasts continue with unabated enthu- 
siasm. Mistral's life is a successful life; he 
has revived a language, created a literature, 
inspired a people. So potent is art to-day in 
the old land of the Troubadours. All the 
charm and beauty of that sunny land, all that 
is enchanting in its past, all the best, in the 
ideal sense, that may be hoped for in its future, 
is expressed in his musical, limpid, lovely verse. 
Such a poet and such a leader of men is rare in 
the annals of literature. Such complete oneness 
of purpose and of achievement is rare among 
men. 



APPENDIX 

We offer here a literal prose translation of 
the Psalm of Penitence. 

THE PSALM OF PENITENCE 

I 

Lord, at last thy wrath hurleth its thunder- 
bolts upon our foreheads, and in the night our 
vessel strikes its prow against the rocks. 

Lord, thou cuttest us down with the sword of 
the barbarian like fine wheat, and not one of the 
cravens that we shielded comes to our defence. 

Lord, thou twistest us like a willow wand, 
thou breakest down to-day all our pride ; there 
is none to envy us, who but yesterday were so 
proud. 

Lord, our land goeth to ruin in war and 
strife; and if thou withhold thy mercy, great 
and small will devour one another. 

Lord, thou art terrible, thou strikest us upon 
the back; in awful turmoil thou breakest our 
power, compelling us to confess past evil. 

253 



254 FR£d£rIC MISTRAL 

II 

Lord, we had strayed away from the austerity 
of the old laws and ways. Virtues, domestic 
customs, we had destroyed and demolished. 

Lord, giving an evil example, and denying 
thee like the heathen, we had one day closed up 
thy temples and mocked thy Holy Christ. 

Lord, leaving behind us thy sacraments and 
commandments, we had brutally lost belief in 
all but self-interest and progress ! 

Lord, in the waste heavens we have clouded 
thy light with our smoke, and to-day the 
sons mock the nakedness and purity of their 
fathers. 

Lord, we have blown upon thy Bible with 
the breath of false knowledge; and holding 
ourselves up like the poplar trees, we wretched 
beings have declared ourselves gods. 

Lord, we have left the furrow, we have tram- 
pled all respect under foot ; and with the heavy 
wine that intoxicates us we defile the innocent. 

in 
Lord, we are thy prodigal children, but we 
are thy Christians of old ; let thy justice chastise 
us, but give us not over unto death. 



APPENDIX 255 

Lord, in the name of so many brave men, 
who went forth fearless, valiant, docile, grave, 
and then fell in battle ; 

Lord, in the name of so many mothers, who 
are about to pray to God for their sons, and 
who next year, alas ! and the year thereafter, 
shall see them no more ; 

Lord, in the name of so many women who 
have at their bosoms a little child, and who, 
poor creatures, moisten the earth and the sheets 
of their beds with tears ; 

Lord, in the name of the poor, in the name of 
the strong, in the name of the dead who shall 
die for their country, their duty, and their 
faith ; 

Lord, for so many defeats, so many tears and 
woes, for so many towns ravaged, for so much 
brave, holy blood ; 

Lord, for so many adversities, for so much 
mourning throughout our France, for so many 
insults upon our heads ; 

IV 

Lord, disarm thy justice. Cast down thine 
eye upon us, and heed the cries of the bruised 
and wounded ! 



256 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

Lord, if the rebellious cities, through their 
luxury and folly, have overturned the scale-pan 
of thy balance, resisting and denying thee ; 

Lord, before the breath of the Alps, that 
praiseth God winter and summer, all the trees 
of the fields, obedient, bow together ; 

Lord, France and Provence have sinned only 
through f orgetf ulness ; do thou forgive us our 
offences, for we repent of the evil of former 
days. 

Lord, we desire to become men, thou canst 
set us free. We are Gallo-Romans, and of 
noble race, and we walk upright in our land. 

Lord, we are not the cause of the evil, send 
down upon us a ray of peace. Lord, help our 
cause, and we shall live again and love thee. 



THE PRESENT CAPOULIE OF THE 
FELIBRIGE. 

M. Pierre Devoluy, of the town of Die, was 
elected at Aries, in April, 1901. The Consistory- 
was presided over by Mistral. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The following list contains the most important works 
that have been published concerning Mistral and the 
Felibrige. Numerous articles have appeared in nearly- 
all the languages of Europe in various magazines. Of 
these only such are mentioned as seem worthy of special 
notice. 

WORKS CONCERNING THE FfiLIBRIGE IN 
GENERAL 

America 

Janvier, Thomas A., Numerous articles in the Century 
Magazine, New York, 1893, and following years. 
An Embassy to Provence, New York, 1893. 
Preston, Harriett, Mistral's Calendau. The Atlantic 
Monthly, New York, 1874. 
AubaneVs Mibugrano entreduberto. The Atlantic 
Monthly, New York, 1874. 

England 

Craig, Duncan, Miejour or Provencal Legend, Life, Lan- 
guage, and Literature. London. 
The Handbook of the Modern Provencal Language, 
Crombie, J. W., The Poets and Peoples of Foreign Lands : 

Frederic Mistral. Elliot, London, 1890. 
Hartog, Cecil, Poets of Provence. London Contem- 
porary Review, 1894. 
259 



260 FR^D^RIC MISTRAL 

France 

Boissin, Firmin, Le Midi litteraire contemporain. Doula- 

doure, Toulouse, 1887. 
De Bouchaud, Roumanille et le Felibrige. Mougin, Lyons, 

1896. 
Brun, C, L' Evolution fe'libre'enne. Paquet, Lyons, 1896. 
Donnadieu, F., Les Precurseurs des Fe'libres. Quantin, 

Paris, 1888. 
Hennion, C, Les Fleurs fe'libres ques. Paris, 1893. 
Jourdanne, G., Histoire du Felibrige. Roumanille, Avi- 
gnon, 1897. 
Lintilhac, E., Les Felibres a travers leur monde et leur 

poe'sie. Lemerre, Paris, 1895. 
Precis de la litterature francaise. Paris, 1890. 
Legre, L., Le Poete Theodore Aubanel. Paris, 1894. 
Margon, A. de, Les Precurseurs des Felibres. Beziers, 

1891. 
Marie ton, Paul, La Terre provencale. Lemerre, Paris, 

1894. 
Article Felibrige in the Grande Encyclopedie. 
Article Mistral in the Grande Encyclopedie. 
Michel, S., La Petite Patrie. Roumanille, Avignon, 

1894. 
Noulet, B., Essai sur Vhistoire litteraire des patois du 

midi de la France, au XVIII 6 siecle. Montpel- 

lier, 1877. 
Paris, Gaston, Penseurs et pokes. Calmann-Levy, Paris, 

1896. 
Restori, Histoire de la litterature provencale depuis les 

temps les plus recules jusqu'h nos jours. Mont- 

pellier, 1895. (Translated from the Italian.) 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 261 

Roque-Ferrier, A., Melanges de critique litter aire et de 

philologie. Montpellier, 1892. 
Saint-Rene-Taillandier, V., Etudes litteraires, Plon 

et Cie, Paris, 1881. 
Ta vernier, E., La Renaissance provencale et Roumanille. 

Gervais, Paris, 1884. 
Le mouvement litteraire provencal et Lis Isclo d^Or de 
Frederic Mistral. Aix, 1876. 
De Terris, J., Roumanille et la litterature provencale. 

Blond, Paris, 1894. 
De Vinac, M., Les Fe'libres. Richaud, Gap, 1882. 

Germany 

Bohmer, E., Die provenzalische Dichtung der Gegenwart, 

Heilbronn, 1870. 
Koschwitz, E., Ueber die provenzalischen Feliber und ihre 
Vor ganger, Berlin, 1894. 
Grammaire historique de la langue des Fe'libres. Greifs- 

wald and Paris, 1894. 
A study of Bertuch's translation of Nerto in the 
Litteraturblatt fur germanisclie und romanische 
Philologie. 1892. 
A study of Provencal phonetics with a translation of 
the Cant dou Souleu. Sonderabdruck aus der 
Zeitschrift fur franzosische Sprache und Littera- 
tur. Berlin, 1893. 
Schneider, B., Bemerkungen zur litterarischen Bewegung 
auf neuprovenzalischem Sprachgebiete. Berlin, 1887. 
Welter, N., Frederi Mistral, der Dichter der Provence. 
Marburg, 1899. 1 

1 The present work was completed in manuscript before 
the reception of Welter's book. 



262 FRfCD^RIC MISTRAL 

Italy 

Licer, Maria, 7* Felibri, in the Roma letteraria. June, 

1893. 
Portal, E., Appunti letterari: Sulla poesia provenzale. 
Pedone, Palermo, 1890. 
La Letter atura provenzale moderna. Reber, Palermo, 

1893. 
Scritti vari di letteratura classica provenzale moderna. 
Reber, Palermo, 1895. 
Restori, A., Letteratura provenzale. Hoepli, Milan, 1892. 
Zuccaro, L., Un avvenimento letterario; Mistral tragico, 
in the Scena illustrata. Florence, 1891. 
II Felibrigio, rinascimento delle lettere provenzali, Con- 
cordia. Novara, 1892. 

Spain 

Tubino, Historia del renacimiento literario contemporaneo 
en Cataluna, Baleares y Valencia. Madrid, 1881. 

MISTRAL'S WORKS 

Mireio. 1859. 

Calendau. Avignon, 1867. Paris, Lemerre, 1887. 
Lis Isclo d'Or. 1876. 
Nerto. Hachette, Paris, 1884. 
& Lou Tresor ddu Felibrige. Aix, 1886. 
La Reino Jano. Lemerre, Paris, 1890. 
Lou Pouemo ddu Rose. Lemerre, Paris, 1897. 

TRANSLATIONS OF MISTRAL'S WORKS 

H. Grant, An English Version of F. Mistral's Mireio from 
the Original Provencal. London. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 263 

Harriett Preston, Mistral's Mireio. A Provencal Poem 
Translated. Roberts Bros., Boston, 1872. Second 
edition, 1891. 
A. Bertuch, Der Trommler von Arcole. Deutsche Dich- 
tung, Dresden, 1890. 
Nerto. Trubner, Strassburg, 1890. 
Mireio. Trubner, Strassburg, 1892. 
Espouscado. Zeitschrif t f iir f ranzosische Sprache und 
Litteratur, XV 2 , p. 267. 
Hennion, Mireille. Traduction en vers francais. 
E. Rigaud, Mireille. Metrical translation into French, 

with the original form of stanza. 
Jaroslav Vrchlichky. Translation of several poems 
of Mistral into Bohemian, under the title, Z bdsni 
Mistralovych, in the Review, Kvety. Prague, 1886. 
Hostem u Basniku. Prague, 1891. Contains seven 
poems by Aubanel and thirteen by Mistral. 
Dom Sigismond Bouska, Le Tambour d' Arcole, in the 
Review, Lumir. Prague, 1893. 
Cantos IV and V of Mireio, in the Review, Vlast. 
Prague, 1894. 
Pelay Boiz, Mireio, in Catalan. 
Roca y Roca, Calendau. Lo Gay Saber, Barcelona, 

1868. 
C. Barallat y Falguera, Mireya, poema provenzal de 

Frederico Mistral puesto en prosa espanola. 
Maria Licer, VAngelo (Canto VI of Nerto). Italian. 

Iride, Casal, 1889. 
j§l. Naum, Traduceri. Jassy, 1891. (Translation into 
Rumanian of Canto IV of Mireio, The Song of 
Magali, and The Drummer of Arcole.) 
T. Cannizzaro, La Venere oVArli, in Vita Intima. Milan, 
1891. 



INDEX 



Aasen, Ivan, 94. 
Alexandrine verse, 78, 89. 
Alpilles, 11. 
Amiradou, 76, 196. 
Arene, Paul, 21, 234. 
Ariosto, 20, 151. 
Armana prouvencau, 17, 28. 
Aubanel, Theodore, 15, 17, 

21, 36, 88, 233. 
Aucassin and Nicolette, 170. 

Balageur, Victor, 31, 32. 
Bello d'Avoust, 184. 
Berluc-Perussis, 33. 
Boileau, 102. 
Bonaparte- Wyse, 31, 33. 
Bornier, Henri de, 33. 
Bre'al, Michel, 34, 72. 
Brunet, Jean, 16. 
Brunetiere, 79, 249. 
Byron, 250. 

Calendau, 18, 79, 127. 
CapouliS, 19, 35, 36. 
Catalans, 31. 
Cigale, Soci&e* de la, 20, 33. 



Countess, the, 199. 
Cup, 31, 32, 190. 

Dante, 40, 73, 130, 133, 160, 

248. 
Darmesteter, 41. 
Daudet, 9, 21, 69, 152, 240 

seq. 
Dictionary of the Provencal 

language, 20, 92. 
Drac, 165 seq. 
Drummer of Arcole, 78, 204. 

Espouscado, 194. 
Evangeline, 122. 

Faust, 248. 
Felibre, 5, 27. 
Felibrige, 24 seq. 
Felibrige de Paris, 16, 20, 33. 
Felibrige, foundation of, 15. 
Felibrige organized, 19, 34. 
Fin dou Meissouni^, 186. 
Floral games, 20, 32, 35. 
Font-Segugne, 17. 
Foures, Auguste, 37. 



265 



266 



fr£d£ric MISTRAL 



Garcin, Eugene, 15. 
Giera, Paul, 15. 
Goethe, 123. 
Gounod, 18. 
Gras, Felix, 36, 37, 38. 
Grevy, 20. 

Homer, 13, 123. 
Hugo, Victor, 79, 138, 181, 
203. 

Isclo d'Or, 19, 181. 

Janvier, Mrs. Thomas A., 

38. 
Jasmin, 6, 14, 29, 43, 73, 193. 
Jeanroy, 27. 
Jourdanne, 24, 37. 

Koschwitz, 49. 

Lamartine, 17, 29, 103, 130, 

181, 182, 183, 204. 
Landor, Walter Savage, 213, 

214. 
Latin race, 30, 191, 193. 
Legouve, 20. 
Lemaitre, Jules, 232. 
Leopardi, 250. 
Lintilhac, Eugene, 72. 
Littre\ 94. 
Longfellow, 6. 

Maillane, 10, 12. 
Marot, 81. 



Mary, Queen of Scots, 213, 

217. 
Mas, 11. 
Mathieu, Anselme, 13, 15, 21, 

26. 
Meissoun, 14. 
Meyer, Paul, 33. 
Mila y Fontanals, 34. 
Mirabeau, 131, 243. 
Mireio, 12, 17, 28, 79, 99. 
Mistral's marriage, 19. 
Mistral's Memoirs, 21. 
Mont-Ventoux, 148. 
Museum of Aries, 21. 
Musset, 181. 

Napoleon, 164. 
Nerto, 20, 151. 
Noulet, 43. 

Paris, Gaston, 34, 69, 115. 
Petrarch, 18, 19, 33, 34, 36, 

73, 148, 220. 
Poem of the Rhone, 21, 76, 

89, 159. 
Political separatism, 15. 
Prego-Dieu, 84, 204, 205 seq., 

239. 
Provencal language, 43, 191 

seq. 
Psalm of Penitence, 84, 182, 

200 seq., 239, 253. 

Queens of the Felibrige, 36. 



INDEX 



267 



Reino Jano, 21, 89, 212. 
Rock of Sisyphus, 193, 203. 
Ronsard, 211. 

Roumanille, 7, 9, 14, 15, 17, 
21, 26, 30, 36, 70. 

Saboly, 6. 
Sainte-Beuve, 6. 
Saint-Remy, 7, 10. 
Simon de Montfort, 37. 
Songs, 189. 
Sonnets of Mistral, 86. 



Tartarin, 69, 230, 240. 
Tavan, Alphonse, 15. 
Translation, 87, 89, 178, 247. 
Tresor d(5u Felibrige, 20, 

92. 
Troubadours, 40, 44, 87, 112, 

132, 147, 225, 251. 

Versification, 75. 
Villemain, 29. 
Virgil, 13. 
Voltaire, 221. 



J J I 



MAY 31 1901 



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